Heated Tenacity
by Ornamental Nonsense
Summary: She worked for Terrasave and waited, but for what, she never told anyone. Her brother was gone on an assignment. Jill was missing, and everything seemed to be drawing them toward Africa. The word haunted her. Wesker was there. Sequel to Reverberations.
1. Chapter 1: Waiting

Hello Everyone!

Okay, so here's the deal for new readers: Resistance, Infection, Adaptation, Reverberations, and THEN Years Between. I hope that clears things up, because this story will seem odd if you don't read the other ones first. Also, I haven't finished the game yet due to switching jobs and schoolwork, but I'll try to update regularly. I know everyone loves a fast updater. lol.

I'm sure you've guessed, but this takes place before Resident Evil 5. It's more like a kaleidoscope of scenes of what life is like between Claire's deal and going to Africa. This is meant to bridge the time, and it won't be a long story.

Anyway, enjoy! And I love reviews, but I didn't need to tell you that, right? lol.

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Another day, another empty e-mail box. Blue eyes lingered on the refresh button but quickly jerked away toward the kitchen. What was that awful racket? Claire's sensitive ears picked up the occasional cuss word, and then the soft sizzling of butter in a skillet. Chris was making breakfast? Now there was a disaster waiting to happen. With a smile creeping up her face, Claire stood and peaked around the corner into the next room. Sure enough, there was Chris in a tank top and shorts, trying (key word 'trying') to make an omelet. She had to stifle a giggle when half of the food was accidently flipped onto the stovetop.

"Damn it," Chris huffed.

"If you'd like some assistance…" Claire teased. Chris rubbed his head and shot her an annoyed scowl. "Okay, okay, do it yourself, tough guy." She entered the small room and leaned against the counter, red hair half-obscuring her face.

"Messy, bed hair is definitely your look, sis," Chris smiled. Claire ran a hand through the tangled strands, and then eyed the eggs.

"Could you—"

"Already on it. I put plenty of hot sauce in yours, and some onions, and some chili peppers. It makes me sick to watch you eat it, but if that's what it takes." Claire loved her brother dearly, and the hot sauce was just one reminder of that, for he was very casual and accommodating toward her viral situation. The day he'd made her gag by spraying air freshener had seen him rush her to the hospital, and then he'd sworn never to allow air freshener in the house ever again. He was so sweet at times, but he wasn't entirely happy with her either. Wesker was to thank for that.

Chris was still smarting from the fact that Claire had voluntarily spent time with Wesker—she could tell by the extremely agitated look he adopted whenever the man was mentioned—but overall, their relationship was stable and pleasant. Of course, Chris had no idea what had happened when Claire had gotten involved with Michael Lance, but there were some things that were better left unsaid. She was pretty sure that he'd explode if he found out that she had basically professed her love for a certain blond-haired tyrant.

"What are you thinking about?" Chris asked. Claire quickly snapped out of her thoughts and reached for her eggs.

"When are you leaving?"

"Tomorrow." She frowned. "I know; I know, but they just got word of a new lead, and I'm being shipped out to investigate. I was supposed to have two months off, but they say it can't wait. Sorry, sis."

"Can you at least tell me where you're going?" she pleaded.

"No can do. They haven't even told me yet, and if I did know, it'd be classified."

"Classified this, classified that," Claire rolled her eyes. "Like they would ever find out that you told me." Chris flopped his eggs onto a plate and eyed the questionable, yellowish mess.

"You know that it's not personal, stupid," he joked. Claire crossed her arms and stared up at him in protest. He towered over her and appeared so strong with his heavily muscled body, yet she could have broken him in two. It was a strange thought for both of them, but Claire was very careful not to use her abilities around people. She had learned the hard way when a jerk on a cell phone crashed into her car on the freeway. She had been so annoyed that she'd stormed over to his truck to demand an apology, and the man had the nerve to accuse her of not paying attention to traffic. As she recalled, she'd ripped off his car door when he refused to get out and talk to her. Well, accidents happened…

"Can't you give me a hint?" she asked.

"I said…"

"I know that they already told you where you're going, so stop stalling." Chris sighed as he gave up trying to eat his egg creation.

"There's no fooling you," he complained.

"That's right, so where's my hint?" Silence. "Chris, I'm eating your eggs without a single complaint. How about returning the love?"

"Africa," he slowly allowed. Claire's face instantly drained of color. Hadn't she heard rumors of Wesker going to Africa for something? She tried to remember the plane conference where she'd heard mention of it, and hadn't Wesker told her something about Africa? It had been a while ago, so she couldn't clearly remember. "Claire?" Chris worriedly asked. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she dismissed. She forced another bite of egg into her mouth, but she hardly noticed the taste. An unnamed dread was latching onto her senses, and all she could think about was that one word: Africa. "Where in Africa are you going?" she asked. Chris shook his head.

"Not this time, sis," he apologized. "I can't tell you anything else." Claire mutely stood and set her plate in the sink. This was unsettling, and apparently it showed, for Chris reached out and gently held onto her arm, forcing her to look at him. "Are you sure that you're okay?" He could feel the tensed muscles in her arm, and suddenly his brow furrowed. "Nothing's wrong, right?" Claire gave a forced smile.

"I'm fine." It was a lie, and a bad one at that, but Chris didn't say anything. He simply pulled her into a brotherly hug.

"I worry about you sometimes," he said. "I mean, what happens if the virus starts killing you? We don't know what will happen long term." No, they didn't, and Claire had wondered about that more than once. Would something dreadful happen to her? Was her body still changing? Wesker said that she was stable, but he hadn't been infected long enough to know what would happen either. For now, all she knew was that she felt like herself, but there wasn't a day that the future didn't creep into her mind. The promise that she had made with him was always there. Someday Chris would learn the truth, and someday she'd be faced with the consequences of her emotional attachments. Life could be damned complicated.

"Chris, I'm still here."

"…"

"Chris?"

"Yeah, you're too stubborn to get killed by some puny virus." She giggled and pulled away from him. "I'm going to start packing. What are you up to today?" They walked into the living room, and Claire's eye inadvertently wandered toward the computer, where her e-mail box was still open. Chris noticed the movement and carefully watched her shift in attention. "You're obsessed with checking that thing," he stated.

"I'm waiting for an e-mail from a friend," she explained. He didn't need to know who that friend was. "And it's been a while. I can't stop thinking about it." Chris's hand touched the cell phone clipped onto his belt, and Claire sadly sighed. "No word from Jill either?"

"No," Chris said. "I can't even leave messages anymore, because her phone's dead." He shoved the phone back into his belt with frustration. "It's been three months, Claire—three freaking months! She didn't even tell me where she was going. How am I supposed to find her? What if she's in trouble?"

"Now you understand why I want to know where you're going so badly," Claire softly replied. "She'll turn up, Chris. Jill's a fighter." His eyes brimmed with the pain that Claire knew was consuming him. Losing Jill would be hard for him, if she was indeed dead. No one knew, and that was perhaps worse than having a death certificate. Claire knew that Chris would never stop looking for Jill until he located her. They had been so happy together. Chris had even told Claire one night that he knew exactly what ring he was going to buy Jill.

"Chris," Claire began, her voice distant. "If things start to get really dangerous, please call and tell me where you are. Don't leave me not knowing like Jill did. I don't want to go through that."

"Okay, sis. I promise."

The next day, Chris left Claire by herself with a new assignment from Terrasave. For a long time afterwards, she sat by the window, just staring into space, praying that her brother and Jill would be kept safe. Again, she felt like the background person left out of the action, but getting involved had its own risks. Evening came, and Claire still sat and let the sinking sun's orange rays paint her hair a brilliant, fiery hue. She would have given anything to know where Wesker was, but the e-mail box remained empty.


	2. Chapter 2: Rainy Days

Chapter 2: Rainy Days

The protestors waved their signs and shouted, but their cries seemed to bounce off of the white-faced building. White. If anything, the building definitely shouldn't have been white, but Claire supposed that solid black buildings didn't do much for neighborhood appeal. She stood on the threshold of the building's main entrance, ignoring the man beside her. He was chatting away about the company's strengths, and his nasal voice was beginning to make Claire's jaw clench. She always seemed to get stuck with the annoying grunts. Did companies send her these people in order to belittle her purpose? Or maybe they thought that they could annoy her into submission. Yeah right. Well, if they weren't going to take her seriously, she would make them.

"So such a wonderful, altruistic company would never use human testing, right?" Claire asked her guide. The man stopped short.

"Um, well, of course not, ma'am." Claire resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She was going to get to the bottom of this. Too bad she couldn't just break in at night and find the information that she wanted that way. It would have been faster and more satisfying, but then she remembered the last break-in that she'd planned. She was ever thankful that Johann was dead. She doubted that she'd ever meet someone that sincerely psychopathic again. And Chris thought that Wesker had issues.

"I'd like to see the labs," Claire stated. Again, the man seemed at a loss.

"Ma'am?" It was going to be long day.

"Labs, you know, white walls, computers, test subjects, that sort of thing."

"I don't think I'm authorized to…"

"Sir, would you like to be accused of obstructing this investigation, because I assure you that I will get to the bottom of this with or without your cooperation. The real question is whether or not you'll still have a job at the end of it." That did the trick. The man was nervous now, and Claire inwardly sighed. She didn't consider herself an imposing person, but sometimes she had to channel her inner bitch to deal with these people. She had no patience for human testing, but it certainly wasn't this flunky's fault. He was a pawn. Now if she actually got to talk to the heads of the company or the scientists doing the testing, _then_ she'd show them just how nasty and unforgiving she could be.

"I'll get on it, ma'am," her guide said. And the day wore on. Claire found nothing, but she did have an idea as to where to follow up the investigation. A full team would be sent in tomorrow after she filed her report. She never did get to meet anyone of importance, and she was shuffled about the facility like an unwanted distraction, but she got her revenge by listing names in her report. The authorities would handle it from there, and so she was somewhat content as she left the building and passed the protest line.

_Humans aren't Guinea Pigs!_

_Stop the Cruelty!_

_Science without morals must be stopped!_

The slogans rang in her head as she drove back to her apartment. Human testing was cruel, as she knew from firsthand experience. She didn't regret it now, but she remembered being infected. She could almost feel Wesker's hands holding her down as he increased her viral dosage. She'd almost died after that incident, but somehow he'd controlled her body. What if he hadn't? There was territory that Claire didn't want to wade into, and that was only one of them. She didn't know if Wesker would still have injected her had he not been certain that she'd survive. Had he known she'd survive? They hadn't exactly been on the best of terms at the time. She'd still been struggling with the gradual closeness that she felt toward him, and he'd still been denying that she was anything more than a tool.

Things had changed. At least, that's what she always told herself.

But he hadn't contacted her in two months.

_Albert Wesker_. Claire parked the car and suddenly realized that it was raining. Heavy drops pelted the car's roof, and water obscured her view through the windows. Damn. She hadn't brought an umbrella, but that was okay. She had always liked the rain, and sleeping was easier with a watery rhythm to cancel out other distracting noises.

She got out of the car and paused. Water quickly dampened her hair and flattened the red locks against her head. Her blue blouse was already clinging to her thin frame, and she watched rivulets snaking down her arms. She knew that the water was cool, but she couldn't feel it. She was left with the feel of liquid, and for a moment she forgot about the slogans and signs. _Take a moment for yourself, Claire. Forget the world. Don't rush inside the check the e-mail_.

She was off and running, water smacking her face as she jogged down the streets. Alone in the rainy haze, she kept moving and enjoyed the bliss of being impulsive and unhampered. She did not stop until she reached the park, where she perched on a rock overlooking an empty playground. Here was a world apart from her own, but with the smell of damp earth invading her nostrils, and the feel of the rain, it almost felt like hers. The earth felt like it should.

Suddenly, a vibration in her pocket caused her to look down. Her phone was ringing. The poor machine was properly not up for this drenching water, she realized. So she jumped from the rock and shot under a tree. The thick branches made the rain less intrusive, and she gently pulled her phone free. Shaking the water off, she checked the number: unknown caller.

"Hello?" she asked.

"Hi, this is Roland Parkview, and we'd like to offer you the opportunity of a lifetime…" Claire slammed the phone shut. Telemarketers—how she hated them. Her finger ran over the phone and she dejectedly put it back in her pocket. What had she been hoping for? Him? He called less frequently than he e-mailed, but maybe he was busy. Wesker was always busy, and she probably didn't want to know what it was about. Whatever he'd been working on for the year since they'd parted would repulse her. Still, her hopes had been high. It felt like forever since he'd touched her, talked to her, taunted her. Yes, she even missed the taunting. He had a sarcastic, mocking sense of humor that one simply had to get accustomed to.

Brzzzzzz. The phone was vibrating again.

"Hello?"

"Hi, this is Roland…" The phone's top almost broke when Claire shut it. She admitted that she was more short-tempered lately, but Chris was gone, Wesker was gone, and she didn't feel that her job was as fulfilling as it could be. Hell, she would have loved to join Chris on whatever mission he was on, but he worked with the government. _Yeah_, Claire, _that's a great idea_.

Brzzzzzz.

"Look, I don't want whatever the hell you're selling," she answered, "And if you call this number one more time, someone is going to suffer!" She knew that is was an automated message, but she didn't care. Then again, where was the message? She was met with silence, but the call definitely hadn't been ended.

"Hello to you too, Miss Redfield," a deep voice eventually chuckled. Claire's heart skipped a beat.

"Albert?"

"Not who you were expecting, I take it." Claire smiled. Rain dripped down her face, and her clothing was uncomfortably suctioned against her skin, but she didn't give a damn. She simply smiled and sat on the ground beneath the tree. "How are you, Claire?" Oh, she had missed that drawl.

"Fine, a little wet," she said.

"Wet?"

"Yeah, I'm sitting in the rain. It's actually quite refreshing. I'm assuming that you're in an office somewhere. No windows, right?" She knew he was smirking, even if she couldn't see it.

"There's a window."

"Really?"

"I have no reason to lie about that."

"It's nice to know that you haven't locked yourself in the usual dungeon," Claire joked. Then, "You haven't called for a while, but I guess you're busy."

"Quite, but today is slow. Transportation has been halted by the rain." Claire smiled, finding the coincidence charming.

"It's raining there too?"

"Yes, but it's unexpected for this time of year. The ground is so dry that it can't absorb the water."

"See, even Mother Nature doesn't approve of your plans." And her mind was feverishly working to try to determine if the weather Wesker was seeing could hint at his location. Maybe it was intentional.

"Trying to guess, dear heart?" came his mocking voice.

"You know it."

"I could tell you," he offered.

"But only if I'm not going to interfere," Claire finished for him. "I know." With a sigh, she leaned against the tree and imagined Wesker watching the rain. "It's a good day for talking on the phone," she decided. "Rainy days are good for that. There's something peaceful about them. It's so quiet."

"Hmmm…it won't be quiet for much longer."

"What does that mean?" Claire uneasily asked. "Is it almost…?"

"Not yet, but soon. Tell me something, dear heart; are you looking for me? You haven't been very active with Terrasave lately, which leads me to think that you're up to something."

"Maybe I am."

"It won't make a difference," he warned. "But feel free to try and change the outcome of this." Claire didn't even know what his ultimate goal was, but she knew that if he won, she had agreed to go with him. "I was rather hoping that you'd stay out of it. You could get hurt."

"It comes with the territory."

"As a true Redfield would say." Claire lazily stood and stared into the thinning rain. "I must go, dear heart, but I haven't forgotten about you."

"Thanks for calling."

"Your welcome. Until next time."

"Yeah." The phone went dead, and Claire smiled. Soon. She had to step up her work in finding out what he was up to. Africa. Chris. She smiled to herself. Chris shouldn't have underestimated her. She had a gut feeling that with a little snooping, she would learn that Wesker was also in Africa, and with the two of them going in the same direction, it couldn't be coincidence. She walked away, her shoes squeaking with water. It had been a brilliant idea to hide a tracking device in Chris's left boot. Rebecca had once mentioned that trick to her, and Terrasave had a rather surprising and subversive inventory.


	3. Chapter 3: Searching

Thanks for the support everyone! I know that I've been tinkering around with ideas for the next installment for some time, and I want to thank the people who sent me messages regarding this. You know who you are, and I appreciate your honest thoughts on my ideas. I've decided on a path that I'm sure some of you have foreseen, and I hope it pleases everyone. Don't worry. Things aren't going to get weird or anything. lol. And there is a lot of action and excitement to come! Please review. It makes me happy.

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Chapter 3: Searching

Claire sat before the kitchen table, which was spread with clippings from every imaginable news source. Anything and everything relating to medical or scientific companies in Africa were included, which, unfortunately, meant that Claire was faced with a massive amount of possibilities. Chris was still on the east coast, waiting to be shipped out, so he was of little help, and that left her groping in the dark for answers. One article was about a toxic waste spill, and another covered the rising costs of tuberculosis medication in Kenya. The list went on and on, and the trashcan beside her began filling up.

A laptop was open beside her, and she added a few locations to a long list of possibilities. Her e-mail was open in the background, and she noted that Laura Copper, her supervisor at Terrasave, had sent her an e-mail. For a moment, she paused and skimmed through its content.

_Your request for time off has been accepted, but may I ask why you want unspecified leave? You're an asset here, and I was hoping that you'd look into the company that bought WilPharma. The name is Tricell. We don't have much information on them, but they got into trouble in Eastern Europe for reported human testing. Give it some thought. We're waiting for your return._

Claire gave the job some thought, but if she pursued this, she'd never have time to look into Wesker's activities. Tricell could wait, but just out of curiosity, she looked up the company's locations. When the screen popped up, she was surprised that the company had locations along the entire West African coast. Perhaps this was actually worth looking into, but she would wait to see where Chris was heading.

_Come on, brother. How many days until you board your flight_? She admitted that she was being rather impatient, but she couldn't help it. More and more clippings flew into the trash, and she was left with a handful of names that were possibly involved with bioweapons. It was a start, but now she couldn't decide what to do. Knowing what Wesker was working on would have helped. In fact, Umbrella probably had beautiful files on rival companies that would help her narrow her targets, but would Wesker work with a former rival?

Claire jumped from her seat and went to her bedroom. If she was heading out on an adventure, she'd better prepare herself for trouble. Underneath the bed, she located a large, metal box. The top flipped open to reveal her hidden stash of supplies. She had collected equipment over the last year, but getting everything that she wanted had seemed an impossible task before discovering an ingenious way to go about it, and that had everything to do with a beautiful, wooded valley. She smiled and began packing choice belongings into a duffel bag.

Because she wasn't affiliated with a governmental group, she didn't have access to weapons, nor did she have the pocket money to buy them elsewhere. Then she had paid a visit to Wesker's home to spend a few days relaxing between jobs, and snooping around the lab had been too tempting. She'd almost hit her head in disbelief when she realized that she was standing amidst one of the best supply stocks in the world. Umbrella bases had beautiful weapon closets for outbreaks, and the technological equipment was equally impressive. So she had taken inventory and the liberty of using company order forms from the base to obtain additional items. That had been a month ago, meaning that the order had definitely arrived. Now she only had to pick up her shipment.

She figured that by the time she had herself supplied, Chris would be on his way to wherever BSAA was sending him. She fully planned to follow him, as long as she had some sort of thread connecting Wesker to the location. Once she was there, she wasn't quite sure what she planned to do, for if it was an outbreak situation, she knew exactly what had to be done, but what if the area was peaceful? That would actually be more challenging to handle, she decided, because the enemies wouldn't be as visible. Either way, she would have to be prepared to deal with the worst.

That thought brought her back to Chris and his role in events to come. She knew that her brother was trying to find Wesker, but he was unusually tight-lipped about his quest, which bothered her. The only reason that she'd found out that he was focusing on that task was because she'd talked with Jill before her disappearance. The now missing woman had told her that Chris and her had found several leads to a man named Spencer, and that they were going after him in hopes of catching Wesker. That had been news to Claire, who only knew that Chris and Jill had teamed up to track down Umbrella's old scientists. And the whole disappearance of Jill…something didn't fit. Chris said that she'd been hurt in a mission, and that he'd lost contact with her. The only evidence that she was alive was a brief phone call that got as far as, "Chris, I'm…"

But why wouldn't Chris tell Claire about Wesker? She frowned as she locked her apartment behind her. Apparently her visit to the man had worried Chris more than he let on. He probably wanted to ensure that she never had anything to do with the BOW again, but still, it was unsettling. Was he still looking for Wesker? Was that partly what this trip to Africa was about? Claire grew more concerned the longer she dwelled on the subject. Of course, her suspicions in this regard had fueled her intuition to follow Chris in the first place, but she wished that Chris had simply told her the whole truth. Maybe he knew more about what Wesker was doing than she did. She might be researching in order to prepare herself, but there was this nagging feeling that she was playing catch-up. She was the one at a disadvantage in this scheme.

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Irving had an obnoxious habit of getting excited. If he weren't so useful, Wesker would have refused to tolerate the man. He had worked with some odd people in his lifetime, which was expected, but Irving had a giddy fascination with viruses that bordered on psychotic at times. Red eyes shifted to view the thin man as he entered the room. Excella had recommended Irving, and she had been correct when she said that he would make an excellent virus runner. Behind the strange front, the man was excellent at business and striking deals. He was perfect for handling the sale of their latest project in a supposed terrorist connection. It was much more than that by far.

A thin smirk creased Wesker's face as he continued to scan the room below. This observation deck overlooked the latest experiment: Uroboros. He watched the wormlike creatures engulf and consume the human that had been tossed in with them. The person was obviously too weak to withstand that test, for soon the virus was killing him. A shame. Most people simply couldn't withstand infection, but for those that did, they awaited improvements the likes of which they'd never imagined. He swelled with satisfaction as he mulled over his plans. He had once told a certain woman that his plans would change everything, and he hadn't lied. With Uroboros it was possible.

"Another one bites the dust," Irving said as he watched the spectacle below.

"Are your supplies in order?" Wesker asked, and Irving smiled.

"Yep, and I've got several fish on the line. I can begin selling whenever you're ready."

"And did that outbreak get contained?" A specimen had recently escaped, and apparently it had found a host in a small, village boy. The boy needed to be destroyed, because Wesker didn't want any unwanted attention at the moment. Irving would launch their tests soon enough without tipping off the authorities ahead of time.

"He's already been eliminated," Irving stated. Then he struck up a faint humming tune as he spun and walked for the door.

"Tell Excella that I'll be along shortly," Wesker added.

"Sure thing." Irving was definitely odd. He would have fit in well with some of the more eccentric Umbrella scientists that Wesker had encountered. William had been eccentric in his own way, but not over the top like Irving. Birkin would never hum, and then Wesker found it odd that he should think of the dead man now. He didn't make a habit of remembering the dead, but sometimes, when he thought of what he was about to accomplish, he realized how far their collective labors had advanced. They had both been excited the first time that they managed to make a corpse stand, and now look at what was taking place.

Wesker left the observation room and gracefully strode down an empty hallway. He had a meeting with Excella in about an hour, for he needed another injection. The thought annoyed him, but sacrifices had to be made, and he wouldn't be dependent on the shots for forever. He had hoped that joining himself with Claire's viral strain would have ended that need, but it hadn't. She had never seen him giving himself injections to stabilize his body, and he would rather that she never knew about it.

It had started with the strain he had been working on in Brazil. Soon after testing it on himself, he realized that something wasn't quite right. He had gained the ability to transport himself, but his body would break down into fits of shaking and pain. But Claire had never seemed affected, which had been even more puzzling at the time. So he had waited for her to die, both to study her, claim her, and hopefully rid himself of the newfound weakness. In the meantime, Excella had developed an answer, and so far it was working perfectly. It would have to work, for Claire's body hadn't held any solutions, and he didn't understand why. Genetically, he had made them the same, yet her system continued to handle the viruses in a different way. In some sense, her body was better than his because of its coping abilities.

It had been over a year since he'd last seen Claire Redfield. If she had any physical problems, he was sure that she would have told him, which meant that she was fine for the time being. He would see her soon enough, he was sure, for she would come for him. The thought made him pause and stare at the cold tiles beneath his black boots. He wondered how long it would take for her to locate him. Surely once he enacted his plan here in West Africa she would show up. That BSAA organization was also likely to give him problems, and this accidental outbreak would not go unnoticed by their hounds.

Even though he knew that Claire could potentially cause problems, he anticipated her arrival. There was no one quite like her, and the more time he spent with Excella and Irving, the more apparent that became. He rather missed her gentle touches on his back, and the way that she sarcastically bit back at his comments. The phone call had been an impulse, and it had been good to hear her voice after so long. If had also been a reminder to her to not forget him. He was pleased to know that he was on her mind, and, in truth, it was a shame that a phone call was the best that he could do for the moment. She would have been very useful right now.

There was a slight snag in his world domination plan. Once most of the human race was gone, and the survivors evolved into a much more powerful and advanced people, would they be able to reproduce? There could be no race, no one to rule, without reproductive capabilities, and so far tests had turned out negative. Perhaps receptive hosts would be able to breed with each other, but he hadn't actually created sentient infected yet, because he didn't want any rivals to distract him. He had naturally tested his own potential with human eggs to no effect, but Claire was the same as him. If they could successfully breed, then the same should be true with other genetic matches.

Children. She wanted children, and he could easily see her being a mother, but she had been nervous about the suggestion before. He hadn't given the matter much thought because he hadn't anticipated ever having interest in reproducing, but now the question was of the utmost importance. He had Tricell working on the uroboros for years now, but the thought had only come to him recently. So busy had he been with details of his plans and the grand picture that babies had never crossed his mind. Talking to Claire had reminded him of his oversight, and damn, but this was a serious issue—one that needed to be resolved.

There was a Plan B. Wesker always had a plan B, and this one involved stored human eggs that could be merged with uroboros in a lab setting. From there, he could create more of their kind, and given time, he was sure that a solution would be found. Still, Claire did want children, and since she wanted them anyway, he saw ample opportunity to test his genetic capacity with hers. The thought of being a father didn't faze him in the slightest either. In fact, it never occurred to him. Father. That was a word he didn't naturally connect with himself, and so it slipped away under the assumption that Claire would carry the child until birth, and then it would be put in a lab for monitoring.

_She would fight to her last drop of blood over that one_, a voice in the back of his head warned. _Perhaps. Admittedly, it's almost certain_. But he didn't need to concern himself with these issues yet. For all he knew, he was incapable of fathering offspring. He would simply need to test the possibility first. No doubt Claire would love an impromptu visit.


	4. Chapter 4: This Isn't Happening

Enjoy the quick updates, but don't expect it forever. You have spring break to thank for this.

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Chapter 4: This Isn't Happening

His sleeve was rolled up, and her hand rested on his forearm. Wesker's thoughts were elsewhere until he felt her feathery touch, and then the needle slid into his skin, the red liquid inside emptying into his bloodstream. There was a brief burning sensation, and then nothing. The task was finished, but Excella's hand lingered on him. She was a manipulative woman, that was certain, and she had the hourglass body that many men would crave, but Wesker looked at her and saw 'expendable' stamped on her forehead. She would serve her purpose, and then he might or might not let her live. He hadn't decided yet.

"I take it that you heard about our little mishap," Excella purred.

"As long as it's been resolved, it's no concern of mine," Wesker curtly responded. She was still touching him. It had been a while since he'd been touched. It was a rather strange sensation, considering how seldom anyone ever came this close to him, and usually physical contact meant that he was hurting someone. Her fingers glided over his skin, and he allowed himself to consider the unspoken suggestion in her eyes. She wanted him, but not in the manner that she portrayed. He did not sense or smell arousal from her, which meant that she was pursuing this for other reasons. Her motives weren't difficult to figure out.

Did she think that she could get the better of him? Be his equal? She wasn't anywhere close to accomplishing that. He very much doubted whether she was one of the select few that infection would not destroy. In a way, the uroboros had given him a new way to look at people. There were those conditioned to survive, and those who could not join the new order, and Excella was one of the latter. Had she been capable of evolving, he might have bedded her, but at the same time, her touch evoked nothing from him. She did not want him. She wanted his power, and he wanted nothing to do with someone with ambitions like his own.

"Tell me, Albert," she said, leaning closer. "What will you do when you rule this world?" He abruptly stood and slid his sleeve back into place.

"You'll have to wait and see." He walked toward the door, pausing to glance at her. "I'll be gone for several days. See that everything remains on schedule." She stood, and her dress shifted to reveal ample sections of creamy colored breast.

"As you wish," and she tossed a hand dismissively in the air. So she was annoyed by his resistance to her wiles; he didn't give a damn. He wanted to be done dealing with her for the day, and he didn't need her to touch him. He didn't need to be touched at all. For such a smart woman, she should have seen that she was treading dangerous water in allying herself with him. "I trust you will return for the launch of our project?"

"Yes." He walked away, consumed by thoughts of the weakness that he had in viral instability. Excella saw that weakness on a monthly basis, and it was one more reason that he disliked her—not that he had a habit of liking people. He couldn't think of anyone that he particularly liked anymore. People were lumped into categories based on use, and beyond that his life was devoid of anything approaching relationships, and he didn't miss it. Over the last year, he had felt the gap between himself and others grow larger, until humanity seemed like some distant reality. The closer he got to his goal, the stronger he felt, but the more isolated also. In general, it didn't bother him because he wasn't human. He was something better, and even before that he'd viewed sentimental people as idiots to be twisted about. It was only in those rare moments when he contacted Claire that he felt faintly human again, and only because she was so utterly removed from what was consuming his life. He wasn't sure that he wanted to feel anything remotely human anymore, but he allowed it.

Wesker's fingers clenched. Spencer had told him that he wasn't human from the beginning. He had been _made_. Were those people that had been murdered even his real parents? He decided that it didn't matter one way or the other, but their death had probably saved his life. Matthews had taken him in unofficially, which had probably kept Umbrella from locating him for more testing while he was young. That was likely the only reason he had survived whereas the other Wesker children had died. He smiled humorlessly. Matthews had turned out to be useful for something after all, and now his birthright was at hand, but first he had to make a trip. He was actually looking forward to it, because not all business was unpleasant after all.

****************

Chris sat back in his chair and drank a beer. Three other men were being shipped out with him, but they were all heading for different locations. One was going to South Africa, if he remembered correctly, and the other two were somewhere further north. He was being sent to the west coast of Africa by himself, where apparently he'd be working with a new partner. The word partner made him cringe, for it reminded him of Jill. The thought of her drove him crazy with worry some nights. He hated to admit it, but he hoped that she'd simply died from the fall, and not ended up in Wesker's hands.

"Redfield?" a man called as he approached. "The captain's ready for you now." Chris nodded and followed the newcomer to a separate room where several very stone-faced men of apparent rank met him. They stood around a high table, intent on papers spread across its surface.

"Redfield reporting for duty, sir," Chris announced.

"Ah, yes, over here," an older man greeted. Chris drew closer and saw that they were staring at several photos. "I was just telling these men that you and your former partner encountered Albert Wesker some time ago."

"That's correct," Chris hollowly stated. "Does my job in Africa have something to do with him?"

"We can't be certain, but this photo was taken from an airport camera further north. There's no guarantee that it's him, but our sources suggest that he might be involved." Another man passed Chris the photo, and he stared at the imposing, black-clad figure portrayed in it. The face was blurry, but those sunglasses in the middle of the day…

"I'd bet my money that this is Wesker," he said, setting the photo aside. If that bastard had done anything to Jill, he was going to pay. Chris wouldn't let Jill down by allowing their enemy to escape him again.

"He's our most wanted target at BSAA," someone was saying. Chris's head turned toward the man. "Finding him is our top priority."

"But," the captain interjected, "not the only one. Redfield, there's been an incident that we want you to investigate. If Wesker is involved, you know that you're to go after him, but otherwise, this is still an important task. Magill here has more information on it. Magill." A man across the table cleared his throat and pointed to a map on the table.

"A boy was seen acting strangely around this area. The locals picked him up to bring him to the hospital, but he killed them instead. The West African branch has already investigated the site, and it's clear that this was no ordinary case. The kid can't be found, and the locals are scared. Furthermore, TriCell has been working in the area for some time, and at what we think is an old Umbrella facility. The records are gone, and nothing ever came of the place that we know of, so we need to know more."

"You really do think that Wesker is somehow involved," Chris said. "Otherwise you'd have the Western branch handle this."

"You're the best we have," the captain admitted. "And we don't want to take risks with this man. If what you've said it true, then I very much doubt anyone else would be prepared to deal with him. You know what he's capable of."

"Yeah," Chris grumbled, hands sliding over the materials on the table. "How long has he been a target of yours?"

"Since Raccoon, but we thought he was dead."

"This," Chris said, finger touching a security camera photo. "The date is after Raccoon, but before…"

"Before you arrived and told us about him. Yes," the captain agreed. "It was that captured event that sparked the government's intent interest in him."

"What happened?" Chris curiously asked. "I don't remember being told of this." The captain sighed and briefly spoke with another man. Their voices were too low for Chris to hear.

"A governmental research facility was broken into. An entire strike force was killed, as well as top scientists, and our only samples of several viruses were stolen. We've never made up for the loss, and Wesker and his partner got away untouched."

"Partner?" Chris asked. "Wesker works alone."

"Not that time," someone said, and another photo was slid in Chris's direction. It took a moment for his eyes to realize what he was looking at. "We don't know who she is…" But Chris wasn't listening. The woman had red hair pulled back into a ponytail, and she was dressed head-to-toe in black, just like Wesker. There was an uncanny resemblance to Claire, but that wasn't possible. There was no way, none at all. But the size and coloring were _so_ similar.

"Redfield?" He didn't hear the voice. His index finger lifted and touched the date listed in the corner of the photo. The photo came from when Claire had gone missing—no, not missing, he corrected himself. She had said that she was leaving, and she had gone to _him_. A knot formed in the pit of his stomach, and his breathing hitched. It wasn't possible. She wouldn't help Wesker. This had to be someone else.

"Redfield, are you listening?" Chris snapped back to reality and eagerly tore his eyes away from the photo.

"Yes, sir," he hurriedly answered.

"You looked like you recognize her."

"No, sir. For a moment I thought maybe, but it's not her." He realized that he was saying that to convince himself as well as them. His palms grew sweaty as he was dismissed and told to be at the airport tomorrow afternoon. He immediately tried to call Claire, but all he got was her voice mail. Please try again later.

"Claire, it's me," he distantly begged. "Call me back when you get the chance. I really need to talk to you." That was an understatement. If she had worked with Wesker…what the hell was he going to do? He had no idea. Part of him wanted to scream until he couldn't anymore, and the other part wanted to rush to Claire and make sure that the bastard could never get near her again. Maybe Wesker had forced her to help him. He shouldn't jump to conclusions.

He dialed her number again. No answer. He tried again and again, but she never picked up. He knew one thing for certain: he wasn't going to sleep tonight. Confusion, concern, and trepidation were eating him alive.


	5. Chapter 5: Confirmed Suspicions

In case you missed it, I removed the author's note. It's now a part of chapter 1, so chapter four is now yesterday's chapter 5. Does that make sense?

________________

Chapter 5: Confirmed Suspicions

Assault rifle, knife, wire cutters, charges, grenades, listening devices, water purifiers, hell, there was even a handheld GPS. Claire's goods were spread across a lab bench, and she stood contemplating what to take with her. She only wanted what she could carry, so that meant that whatever could fit into the backpack at her feet was going, nothing more, nothing less. Her hand traveled to a long, serrated knife, and she strapped the carrier and blade to her hip. Another knife went into her tall boots, and then she strapped the GPS to her wrist. _This will be handy_.

A pistol in the belt, a shotgun and assault rifle stuffed into her bag, along with two changes of clothing, and infiltration supplies like the wire cutters. _Those will be useful too_. The idea of getting involved in the action again had her excited. She didn't like killing or death, but knowing that she would be actively and directly involved in changing circumstances and stopping viruses was gratifying. The feel of a pistol in her hand just felt right, like she could take on any zombie. She always felt less vulnerable with a weapon in hand, even though her body was a powerful force in its own right.

"That does it," she decided. She zipped the bag shut and took a moment to look around the lab. She had chosen to sort through her belongings in a room that she clearly remembered. It was _the_ room. So many things had transpired here that she almost expected to turn around and find Wesker watching her. She had sat on the floor and held him when he infected himself. She had said goodbye to him in this room, and he'd kissed her. "Memories," she whispered. "A time when there didn't seem to be anything outside of this place…" _And you wouldn't mind experiencing it again. _

Her attention landed on the computer console attached to one of the benches. Wesker had handled plenty of work on that machine. Maybe, if she was lucky, he had been careless. She turned the machine on and waited as it hummed to life. Then, with a sigh, she rolled her eyes. Of course the memory had been erased. Wesker wasn't stupid. He didn't want other scientists to know what he'd done to her or himself.

She clicked a few keys and perused the machine's content. Most of it made no sense to her, and the programs were clearly for research purposes. One icon did strike her as familiar though: order requests. She had used this program to order her goods, but there was an option beneath it that she hadn't noticed before. Transfer Goods. She clicked on it and watched as a world map came into view. Little red dots lit up on the screen, and she belatedly realized that they were company locations. Now that Umbrella was virtually gone, or at least underground, the system wasn't up-to-date, but she found it interesting to see the numerous locations that attested to former power.

There were several African sites, and she paid particular attention to one on the western coast. She moved the mouse over the spot, and a small tab appeared. _Transfers Suspended. Lab closed_. She pursed her lips in thought and turned off the computer. For some reason, the location seemed familiar, but she would worry about it later. It was almost two am, and she wanted to be gone from the lab before any workers arrived. Of course, the place seemed to be completely abandoned now. The government had done a fairly decent job at blocking the efforts of other pharmaceuticals to buy up old Umbrella property, and what had been consolidated had been disbanded months ago. Whatever Wesker's partners had hoped to accomplish was gone, and it made perfect sense to Claire that Wesker would have moved on. Knowing Wesker, he had probably cut the last ties and partnered with new forces. Umbrella's legacy was too tainted to securely revive, but she had no idea what he was doing now.

Claire's booted feet jogged through the woods, and she was soon inside Wesker's house. She hadn't visited here in a long time, but the place felt more like home than anywhere else. She and Chris tended to bounce around, and they had apartments, not a home. Now this—she breathed deeply and tossed her boots onto the floor—this was home. Too bad it felt devoid of life.

She pulled her laptop and phone from her backpack and snuggled onto the couch. Twenty missed calls. Her eyes widened. Chris had called her twenty times since last evening?

"Not good," she said. Something had to be wrong if Chris was calling her so frequently. Maybe he was in trouble. She opened her voicemail, and the messages started to play.

"Claire, it's me. We need to talk…Message two: Claire, please pick up. I just had a meeting, and I saw some disturbing things…Message three: Call me back as soon as you can. You were in this security photo of a governmental lab. Well, maybe it wasn't you, but it looked like you…Claire, I need to know if that was you in the photo…" Claire ended the messages before the next one could start. Her heart was hammering in her chest, and her wide eyes stared blankly at the phone. Photos. Government lab.

"Shit…" she breathed. That could only mean one thing, and she didn't even want to think about it. What was she going to tell him? The truth would spawn numerous questions, like why would Wesker take her there, and so forth. Then what would she say—that Wesker wanted her to join him; that he was attracted to her and thought she'd be the perfect ally? "Shit!" And why had she agreed to go with him again? Oh, right, because she had wanted to be strong, to know the truth of this clash between power hungry companies and the government. There was absolutely no safe way to handle this situation. Anything she said would likely cause more probing on Chris's part, and this after he had been so understanding of her refusal to talk about Wesker!

Her fingers rested over the dial button, but she couldn't bring herself to press it. Once she called, she'd have to explain certain things, and dread built inside of her. The more she said, the more he'd want to know and the more apparent it would be that something was going on between her and the ex-captain. She closed the phone. She had to think about this for a while before she called Chris, and she _did_ have to call him. Leaving him as confused as he must be was plain cruelty, but jumping into this was suicide. She didn't want him to distrust her based on what she would say. _Sorry, bro, but I've been sleeping with your betrayer, and I even love him. No big deal, he won't sit near you at the family reunions._ This was pure lunacy.

In the morning, she decided. She'd call him in the morning. _Okay, breathe deeply, Claire. You'll just have to explain things very carefully, and with some omissions—make that a lot of omissions. SHIT!_ If Chris had suffered a long night, she was going to have an equally long day.

*************

"Chris?"

"You waited long enough to call," came a disgruntled voice.

"Two days, I know…sorry." There was a long pause, during which Chris breathed out a long sigh.

"So what's going on?" There was a reserved quality to his voice—the type of strained undertone that said 'I don't really want to know, but I have to ask'. "You know what photo I'm talking about, don't you?"

"Yes, but Chris it's not what it looks like."

"So what the hell is it then?" Somehow the frustration boiled over when he heard Claire outright admit that it was indeed her in the photo. His sister had been at Wesker's side, firing together at government employees. He felt fully justified in his brewing emotions.

"Chris, this isn't easy," Claire sighed.

"What isn't easy is being shown a picture of your sister helping out the most conscienceless, selfish bastard on the face of the earth!" Another deep breathe. "I need an explanation, Claire. I didn't ask you what happened with Wesker before because you didn't want to talk about it, and Jill said that…ah, hell. She's gone now. She's gone and my sister was fighting alongside her murderer."

"Wesker killed Jill?" The pain was evident in Claire's voice. "You never said that he had anything to do with her disappearance."

"Well now you know," and the loss in his voice engulfed hers. "We found him over Spencer's dead body, and he would have killed me if Jill hadn't push him out of the window. The last thing I saw was her back."

"Chris, I had no idea."

"You've known all along what he's capable of, Claire, so tell me why."

"Fine. He wanted to show me something that he said would open my eyes," Claire reluctantly began. "I went with him because I didn't know where we were going, and I didn't have a choice, Chris. I was infected, and I didn't know what was happening to me. He was the only one who could help!" Her voice broke off with a sharp intake of air that signaled the beginning of tears. "Once we were in…the government would have tortured me, studied me, treated me like a test animal—just like Umbrella! I couldn't be caught, but I didn't want to hurt anyone either. It exploded in my face, Chris. It was me or them." For a few seconds, it was only the sound of soft tears, and then, "Jill really is dead, isn't she?"

"…I don't know…"

"Chris, are you…you aren't…?"

"You killed for him, Claire," and the bitterness in his voice made her want to shatter into a million pieces.

"I killed to save my life. Things aren't the same because of what I am. They can never be the same, and I want to be involved and help fight, but I can't draw attention to myself either. Please understand, Chris."

"But why didn't you tell me about what happened? Didn't you think that I should know about this?"

"I…" She sniffed and then her voice grew steadier. "I didn't want you to know. You hate Wesker, and I didn't want to hurt you."

"It's a little late for that now."

"And you don't think it hurts me too?" Claire asked.

"Do you hate him?" Chris demanded.

"What?"

"Do you hate Wesker?" Pause. "He killed Jill, Claire! He caused Raccoon City, and god knows what he's up to in Africa!" The words slipped from his mouth before he could hold them in, and he immediately wanted to kick himself. "Damn it. I don't want you to ever go anywhere near him again, Claire. Okay? You stay away from that bastard. Whatever happened between you, however he pretended to 'help' you, forget it."

"I want to help fight!" Claire protested.

"I know…"

"But aren't you angry because—I'm not going to help him, Chris."

"Claire, what else haven't you told me? How close did you get to him during those months? I mean, I sensed that something had happened. You never bash him like I do, but I assumed that you were just upset. I didn't want to press. I wanted to trust you, like we always have."

"You don't trust me?" Claire asked dejectedly.

"Yes, no, I don't know, sis. I think…I believe you when you say that you won't help him, but you were fighting with him, and hell, you could have even done more than that! I would have never thought that you'd actually do anything like that, but…"

"I'm sorry for hurting you, and please believe me when I say that I _do_ want to help. That's what I'm doing at Terrasave."

"Yeah, I know, but I feel like I just got a bombshell dropped on my head. You won't tell me what else happened between the two of you, will you?"

"There are some things that I can't share, Chris. I don't think I'm ready for that yet, and I don't think you are either." The very implication that there was much more to share left a rift between them that almost felt tangible. The sound of Chris shifting uncomfortable came across the connection.

"I think it'd be best if you stay where you are," Chris finally said, and there was a hard edge to his words. The steel was almost as sharp as the worry. "I know you want to know where I am, but I don't want you to get any crazy ideas in your head about running after me—not like before, after Raccoon. Stay out of this until it's finished."

"Chris, let's talk about this."

"No, sis—not this time. I have work to do, and I have to focus. We'll talk about this when you're ready to tell me the truth. Stay safe until I come home."

The phone went dead, and Claire was left standing on a porch, oblivious to the beautiful day. She clutched the phone to her chest and let several more tears fall.

"But what if you don't come home, Chris? What if he kills you like he did Jill?" Oh god, Jill. Wesker had killed Jill, and he had almost gotten Chris. He had always said that he'd kill her brother one day, but to realize that Jill's blood was on his hands made his threats come to life. She'd never forgive herself or him if that happened, she was sure. And what about Chris? She couldn't let Chris die thinking that she had somehow betrayed him. The sorrowful frustration in his voice moments ago still tore at her. There was no way that she was staying out of this, and it was all the more reason to cross the Atlantic.

She went into the bedroom where her computer was propped on the bed. Her fingers worked furiously, and she noted that Chris was no longer in the United States. Her nerves tensed when she realized that he had already touched down in Africa. It felt like he was in another dimension, worlds between them, as watched his coordinates stream across the top of the screen. West Africa. Lately she was seeing more references to that area than could be coincidental. Where had she just seen that? Her mind clicked as she recalled that Umbrella had an old base there.

"No way…" she mumbled to herself. Were there any active companies in that area? Chris had to be going after more than an old facility since BSAA was involved. She opened another file and looked through the company names that she had compiled. There were few in the region that Chris was in. In fact, there was only one listed for the entire stretch of dry country: TriCell. Claire's fingers froze. TriCell? Laura Copper wanted her to go after TriCell, and so she looked closer. The company's headquarters were exactly where the old Umbrella base appeared to have been. Claire sat back with a grim smile. She had just hit the jackpot.

_Click._

Was that the sound of a car door closing? _No big deal_, she automatically thought, _he's home from lab_. She blinked. Wait a second…Suddenly her mind caught up with her idle observation. Why the hell would there be a car outside?


	6. Chapter 6: Success or Failure?

Chapter 6: Success or Failure?

Claire rushed to the window and looked outside to find a black car parked before the house. The man walking toward the front door wore solid black, and blond hair was combed back across his head, revealing perfectly sculpted features and dark sunglasses. Surprise was her first reaction, and then a warmth started in her toes and spread everywhere. She hadn't seen him in a year, and she hadn't expected to see him today. He had promised that he'd visit her at some point, and here he was making good on it. She could still remember the day that he made that promise. It had been her birthday, and he'd mailed her a beautiful ruby necklace and matching earrings. No doubt they had been expensive, and no sooner had she tried them on then he called her, and she'd spoken her mind. The jewelry was stunning, but it wasn't as nice as visit would have been, and so he promised to come to her.

"Albert," she smiled, and she heard his key click in the front door. Her revelry was cut short when she turned and noticed that her computer was still on the bed. _He can't know that I know_. In a dash, she slammed the laptop shut and stuffed it back in her bag. The backpack, with its evidence of her coming journey, was thrown under the bed, and she frantically tried to think if she'd forgotten anything. He couldn't know that she was getting involved—not if she had any hope of making a difference. She knew better than to think that he would let her run loose and interrupt his plans. If he found out, he wouldn't hesitate to ensure that she was controlled.

As she heard his feet hit the stairs, she ran a hand through her hair and sighed. He had killed Jill. Could she look at him and act like it hadn't happened? The blood on his hands was there, even if she usually overlooked it, but this death had been too personal to ignore. He had hurt someone who she cared about, who she was close to. Surely that couldn't be forgotten. In that instant, Claire truly understood the importance of going to Africa. If Wesker won, there would be hell to pay. Loving him had never been easy and carefree before, but now she felt a growing ache in her heart. She could lose everything in this upcoming struggle, and yet, as the bedroom door opened, she only wanted him to hold her. The threat of losing anyone else made her want to cling to him, as if he might vanish and no longer be hers at any moment. _Lord knows I need something to hold onto in this mess._

"Dear heart," Wesker spoke in his usual, deep, rolling voice. Like that Claire was reminded that she was his, just as she had been for long time.

"Albert!" She spun and threw her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shirt. Gosh, she had forgotten how wonderful he smelled. The scent overtaking her senses was entirely his, and there was nothing that made her feel more secure in the entire world. _He killed Jill_. Her arms pulled him closer, even as a wave of guilt hit her, but if she said anything, what else would he think that she knew? _He killed Jill_. She hid her face so that he wouldn't see her expression. She couldn't change Jill's death, and turning on him wouldn't do anything besides maybe destroy whatever small part of his more humane side had opened to allow her closer. Pain was part of being his, and it would be until the craziness that Umbrella had first unleashed was finally put to rest—_or destroys us_, she glumly added.

"You smell great," she mumbled into Wesker's chest, and she was rewarded with a smirk. His arms encircled her, and she finally looked up at him. He was watching her, and she could hear the gears turning in his mind. What was he looking for? Was he worried that she wasn't as attached to him as before? She smiled. A man like him probably didn't believe in love that survived space or time, and so she raised a hand and set it against his cheek as she leaned up to kiss him. For a moment he didn't return the gesture, but then his lips were moving against hers.

"Aren't you going to ask how I found you?" Wesker drawled.

"There's a tracking device in the phone that you gave me," Claire said. He stared at her. "Well, I'm assuming that there is. You always seem to know where I am."

"Indeed," and Wesker unwrapped his arms, but Claire didn't move. "Were you worried that I wouldn't come?"

"It _has_ been four months since you made that promise," Claire scoffed.

"I was preoccupied."

"With what?" Wesker's mouth twisted into a sarcastic smile.

"Now, now, Claire," he mockingly chided. "You know better." She finally let go of him, but only to wrap her arms around his waist instead of his neck. Her face was pressed into his chest again. She simply couldn't help it. "I take it you missed me," he chuckled.

"Like you don't know that already," she said, giving his back a swat. She noticed that there was a black case sitting beside his feet on the floor, and she frowned. "I was hoping that you wouldn't bring business with you."

"My associate knows not to bother me," Wesker sneered. Obviously something distasteful was on his mind. "Although she is persistent." She? Claire knew that Wesker hadn't simply found someone else to privilege the way that he did her, but that didn't change the fact that some other female was working closely with him, informed on his current plans and life while Claire remained ignorant. She didn't like that one bit.

"Dear heart," and he gently lifted her chin with a gloved hand. His thumb brushed over her cheek as he titled her face toward him. "You're dangerously close to offending me. As if basic human impulses have any hold on me."

"Don't they?" Claire teased, pressing closer against him. His face was flat, and that didn't surprise her; but the slight clenching of his jaw told her that he was seriously contemplating something that didn't particularly please him. "Albert?" she questioned, feeling a faint sting when he didn't respond. She went to pull away, but suddenly his arm was around her waist again, and she was pulled back to him.

"It _is_ a shame that you chose to stay behind," he whispered in her ear, sending shivers down her spine. One of his hands was trailing down her back and over her hips. "Recent company has been lacking in quality."

"Mad scientists?" Claire guessed.

"Greedy humans." He trailed kisses down her neck, and he steered her toward the bed. "They won't last long." Claire fell backward onto the soft mattress, and Wesker tossed aside his jacket and shirt. Claire's clothing was coming off as he worked at his own deliberate pace to divest her of it. "Soon everything will be different." He was on top of her, warming her body with soft touches and genius kisses. "T-virus was only the beginning." He entered her, and their bodies rocked together as one.

"What do you mean, everything will change?" Claire breathed as she wound arms and legs around him. She was listening, but more consumed with feeling. Through the pleasure, she sensed a hunger within Wesker that almost frightened her. He possessed an intensity when he went after goals that was unlike anything she had ever seen. His drive to power almost seemed unstoppable.

"I'm saving the surprise for later," Wesker purred in her ears. "But you'll be there to see it happen." Their motions continued with a steady passion until Claire's hold on him tightened. She gasped as she peaked, and Wesker smirked at her. "You'll be one of the survivors," he told her like some dark promise. Those words almost jerked Claire out of her euphoric state—almost. Wesker finished and rolled off of her, pulling her against his chest as they curled their bodies together. His arm was around her waist, and his mouth near her ear. "No one has even dreamed of what I'll obtain—what the world will obtain."

"You talk like it will be good for the world," Claire mused.

"I once thought of using bioweapons to control the world as it is," Wesker admitted. "But the possibilities have magnified to a point where even you will impressed, Claire. And when the dust settles, those beneath us will be gone."

"Albert, what on earth are you talking about?" Claire turned in his arms, and only then did she realize that he was still wearing sunglasses. "Oh, please," she said, trying to change the subject. "You kept those on?" She lifted a hand and touched the black rims, but Wesker was holding her wrist. Slowly, he let her go, and she pulled them from his face to reveal burning, red eyes.

"It's been a while," he stated. Claire folded the glasses and set them aside.

"Too long, if you ask me," she agreed. Wesker smirked and ran a finger down her abdomen.

"I meant the sunglasses," he clarified.

"Oh." She ran a hand through his blond hair, playing with the short strands. "How long will you stay?" He rested his head on the bed and closed his eyes.

"Two days." Claire nodded in acceptance and wrapped her arms around him.

"That's not very long."

"It won't always be like this."

"No, it won't," Claire echoed in a neutral voice. Whether or not that would be a good thing had yet to be seen, and his recent words were deeply troubling her. They laid in silence for some time, Claire just reclining and watching Wesker's peaceful face. She wondered if he had any idea what real peace was, or if even now his ambition affected him. _He killed Jill_. She sighed sadly and planted a kiss on Wesker's chest. "Life is unfair," she announced.

"Yes."

"Are we going to stay in bed for the rest of the day?" she asked.

"Do you have a problem with that?"

"No."

"Good, because I wasn't giving you a choice." His head seemed to sink further into the pillows, and Claire closed her eyes to enjoy the moment.

"How long has it been since you let yourself rest like this?" she asked.

"A long time, dear heart."

"Let's stay in bed for a long time then." And she began slowing her system, focusing on the feel and smell of the man beside her. Her senses lulled into a lethargic state, and she gratefully forced herself to take a nap. She couldn't simply lie beside him or her mind would wander and drive her crazy, especially with the image of Jill falling from a window or of Chris being alone in Africa. It would ruin this brief respite, and she wouldn't allow that. Sleep was a far better option.

*************

His hand was gently rubbing the small of her back, his head angled so that he could watch her face. It had been so long since being with her that he'd forgotten how easy it was to indulge in her body. For a moment he hadn't been sure. When she had touched him and suggested sex, he had hesitated, but it wasn't from lack of want. No, his body had been prepared, but being touched had initially struck his body as strange. It had been over a year since anyone had laid hands on him like that, let alone dare to try and remove his sunglasses. He'd forgotten that physical gratification could be so alluring, for certainly Excella's touch didn't do what Claire's could, but Claire wasn't some manipulative human either. Claire just wanted him.

She twitched in her sleep, and Wesker almost decided not to bother moving. She had been glad to see him—now there was an odd thought. No one was ever happy to see Wesker, but she had thrown herself at him. He'd forgotten about that too. On the way here, he had been focused on thoughts of reproduction and how the new human race would manage to sustain itself. Thoughts of Claire smiling at him hadn't come into the picture, and then she was there, running hands through his hair and reminding him that he wasn't as untouchable as he portrayed—that there were times that his plans drifted into the background because this redhead would make him think about other activities or questions. _Are you happy? Are you sure you want to do that?_ She made him consider those sentimental words like no one else could, because no one else would ever ask him, or at least in such a way that he'd give them any consideration. Claire had earned his respect with her boldness and tenacity.

His hand snaked off of the bed and toward the black case that he'd brought inside.

"You won't feel a thing," he softly stated. Claire mumbled in her sleep, and her eyes began to flutter, but Wesker was faster. He slid a needle into her skin, and Claire's muscles relaxed in unconsciousness. He lifted her and proceeded to carry her toward the car, cradled against his body. Even though she was his genetic match, it didn't mean that they'd be able to reproduce, and he obviously hadn't come here hoping to impregnate her on a chance of nature. He'd brought everything that he needed, and he was going to be sure before he left whether this would work or not.

At the lab, he laid Claire on an examination table and flipped open a briefcase. With a long syringe, he injected her with an advanced hormonal treatment that would stimulate her ovaries to automatically release multiple eggs. Traditionally, it took about two days for this process to happen, but doctors didn't traditionally have access to Umbrella's technology either. Wesker only waited three hours, and he was careful to keep Claire sedated the entire time. He brushed a stray lock of red hair from her face as he prepared for the second part of the procedure: retrieval.

It was fairly simple to remove the eggs, and he collected six, which he promptly placed into treated containers and fertilized. Now it was a waiting game. He placed the glass dishes into a small box beside the computer and watched the process on the screen as it happened. So far everything seemed to be going as planned, and he tapped his fingers against the desk as he waited.

Of course, he could have told Claire about this, but he didn't want to risk her objection. And exactly what would he have told her? She would want to know the motive behind his sudden interest in becoming a father, and he doubted whether she would buy any story that he concocted. She knew too well that he did things for specific purposes, and the thought of her offering her body up for an experiment in infected reproduction was difficult to imagine. It would better to let her think that she had gotten pregnant the natural way, for then she wouldn't be angry with him or try to shield the child from him.

His features tightened in annoyance as he continued watching the screen. The eggs were dying. His fist momentarily clenched as he took a closer look. The eggs had been successfully fertilized and began to divide, but then they disintegrated. Perhaps this technique couldn't work with infected eggs, because the fluid he was storing them in was designed for human eggs. He watched one by one as every egg died, and there was certainly no way that he'd be able to solve this mystery in the two days that he was spending here. Day one was almost gone, and he couldn't keep Claire sedated for much longer without raising her suspicions.

Wesker threw out his samples and gathered several more for safekeeping. He would study these back at the African base, where he might yet solve this before uroboros were released; however, he might be forced to accept that the infected could not reproduce of their own volition. At the moment, he was leaning in that direction, which meant that a solution would have to be found elsewhere. Sometimes even the mighty Wesker's plans had unforeseen holes in them.

************

"What time is it?" Claire yawned. She was still in bed, and Wesker was still holding her.

"Shhhh…" His lips found hers in the darkened bedroom, and soon he claimed her yet again. Claire had no objections, but she felt a slight stinging in her left arm, like a bee had struck her. If she had looked more closely, she would have seen a small red pinprick where the hormones had been injected, but she brushed it off since Wesker was demanding her attention. He was venting himself after disappointing test results, and she was losing herself in her favorite person. Neither one was aware; nor did nothing seem amiss, but the hormonal treatments were still very much affecting Claire's body.


	7. Chapter 7: Into the Thick of It

So with the direction that this story has started to take, I'm leading it into Resident Evil 5. This is no longer just an "in between" story, but will include the events in Africa, and I've change the title to something more suiting. Enjoy!

_________________________

Chapter 7: Into the Thick of It

"What are your plans, dear heart?" Wesker asked her. He stood beside the car, waiting to leave, and Claire was beside him, looking out over the forest.

"I'm not sure," she lied. "Terrasave has a new assignment for me, but if I have to talk to one more nameless suit or public correspondent, I'm going to hurt someone." She wore, unsurprisingly, one of Wesker's spare black shirts and a pair of jeans. They had stayed in bed very late, and—Claire mentally counted—they'd enjoyed each other's bodies four times in two days. It didn't make up for an entire year, but still, she felt much more soothed and attractive than she had in months. Her eyes ran over Wesker's toned form, and she smiled knowing that he had given her the royal treatment.

"I think I'll stay here for a while," she said. "I'm not ready to leave yet. I shouldn't expect unwanted visitors, right?"

"No one should bother you," he replied. "Stay as long as you like, and if someone does come, no one will look for a body out here." Claire wordlessly nodded and stepped closer.

"Albert, this plan that you were talking about…" He was watching her intently, noting the slightly nervous cast to her face. "What did you mean when you said that I'd be there to see it?" His hand was on her face, sliding across her jaw and into her hair.

"Everyone will see it, Claire, and I'll leave it at that for now. I'll see you soon." He kissed her one last time and opened the car door. Claire had the urge to slash his car tires in order to keep him here. His expression would be priceless, but that's about the only thing it'd be worth. There was no keeping him anywhere against his will.

"Goodbye," Claire waved. The car disappeared, and Claire stood there until the sound of the motor faded away into nothingness. Then she was all action, her limbs rushing too and fro. _Everyone will see it_. That sounded like impending doom if she'd ever heard it, and knowing that she would survive whatever he had planned didn't help either. She couldn't fathom what was underway, but her backpack was slung across her shoulders, and her belongings were quickly thrown into the rented vehicle that she'd brought to the cabin. She scanned the house one more time, and stopped in the living room.

"Hey, Laura?" she asked, phone to her ear. "Yeah, the TriCell company that you mentioned. I want to handle it, and I think I've found some dirt on them. I'm going to investigate, but it may take a while, and I might not be in a position to call you again for some time. Is that okay?" Claire smiled as her employer excitedly chirped away. "Thanks. No, I'll be fine. I just need some privacy for this assignment. Do I need anything?" Her smile grew. This is exactly why she'd called. "A plane ticket would be nice. Thanks. You're the best. Just route the money into my account with pay for the month."

Claire closed the phone and grinned. She was on her way to Africa. She might be seeing Wesker again much sooner than he anticipated, but she couldn't risk him finding out about her. He had to be left in the dark for as long as possible so that she had freedom to work without his eyes on her. She was going to get to the bottom of his plans, but working against him wouldn't be easy, emotionally or physically. She would never harm him. She doubted whether she was even capable of doing so, and knowing that he was near would make her want to contact him. She gripped the phone and frowned.

"I can't risk it," she regretfully stated. If there was a tracking device in the phone, which Wesker had basically admitted, she couldn't take it with her. Of course, that also meant that she wouldn't be able to contact him. _It has to be done_. The phone landed on the coffee table, and Claire locked the door behind her as she left. For a while at least, Wesker would believe that she was staying at the cabin. Let him think that; it suited her perfectly. Very few people had ever managed to surprise Albert Wesker, and she was determined to be one of them.

***********

Two Weeks Later

Chris Redfield sat in the jeep and wiped sweat from his forehead. This place was hot, and the sun was beating down directly on his head. It'd been two weeks since he met his new partner, and a week since they'd begun investigating the strange stories riddling the area. People were acting strangely: being aggressive toward outsiders, and whispering about food that granted special powers. It was all too uncanny for Chris's taste, and it had started with that village boy. The description they'd gathered sounded like an infected person to Chris, but the body had vanished, and no one knew exactly who was responsible. Then there was the business with terrorists, which troubled Sheva more than anything else. Rumors of a black market in new viruses were sweeping BSAA, but he'd told her that there were larger concerns that he didn't elaborate on. Sheva didn't know about Wesker yet. She had no idea what might be around the corner, because telling her about Umbrella's work and living through it were entirely different.

"Well?" she asked, swinging into the seat beside him with her dark hair fluttering behind her. "Did you find anything?"

"Nothing," Chris growled, "Not even a water fountain."

"Then we've nothing for our work today," she grumbled, pulling a water bottle from her side and handing it to him. Chris admired how dedicated she was to her job, and he was fortunate to have such a partner. With her skills and resolve, she would be an asset in an outbreak situation, and something gnawing at Chris told him that such an event wasn't far off. Wherever reports like this were found, disaster followed.

"This smells like Umbrella to me," Chris stated. "These reports, the behavior—it's too unnatural. It reminds me of the Kennedy report, and the fact that TriCell is in the area…"

"Over the ridge," Sheva corrected. "They don't have any work in this area. They're miles north, and there's no evidence that they're involved except perhaps through some rogue employees. If you are so sure that Umbrella is somehow connected to this, maybe an underground group is here."

"Maybe, or it's like you say, and a few of their samples simply got on the market and into the wrong hands. Thing is, chance never seems to factor into anything when I've dealt with these people. Even at Raccoon, it only looked like an accident."

"So we'll be careful, right partner?" Again, he appreciated her straightforward, get-the-job-done attitude.

"Yeah, we'd better be. And maybe today wasn't a total loss." He warily watched as a local hobbled down the road and by the jeep. The elderly woman shot them a dirty, unwelcoming expression before continuing on her way. She was muttering in some strange dialect that Chris had never before heard.

"Ignore them," Sheva again advised. "They're scared, and we're outsiders. These communities do not easily embrace foreigners." Chris took a sip of water and unconsciously checked to see that his pistol was strapped to his waist. "What were you saying about today not being a loss?" Sheva pressed.

"We got a tip to visit a butcher. He apparently has some insight into whoever is putting viruses on the market."

"If someone is selling them, why so erratic?" Sheva stared into the clear blue sky with a frown. "If he is after money, he could do better than this. Why would common villagers be affected? These people are nervous, and those reports of violence and sick locals…it doesn't make sense."

"Not to us," Chris darkly contemplated. "Let's find this guy and get some answers."

"Right," Sheva agreed, putting keys into the jeep. "Buckle up. Where is this butcher?"

"You won't like this," Chris said.

"Try me," she challenged.

"He's in Kijuju." The area was directly beyond this town, and sealed by the military in order to contain whatever was plaguing the region.

"Let's get in there," Sheva declared. "We were being assigned to the inside anyway." And it was true. The two were expected to go into the zone and find whoever was spreading danger. Several teams were already in, looking for answers and following leads that usually went nowhere.

The jeep rumbled to a start, and Chris watched dust rise in a thick cloud behind the vehicle. Not knowing what was going on was driving him crazy, and that wasn't his only concern. He'd tried to call Claire yesterday, just to make sure that she was okay and maybe get some more information out of her, but she hadn't answered. Either she was avoiding him or she'd lost her phone. Maybe it was for the best, for he couldn't foresee talking calmly with her. He didn't even want to think about their last conversation. His eyes slipped shut against the afternoon heat, and he pushed those thoughts from his mind. He wasn't dealing with this until later. For now, he had a butcher to find.

************

"Thank god temperature isn't a problem for me," Claire said to herself. She stood on the edge of a dusty town filled with poverty-stricken homes, dirt roads, and shoddy corner shops. Her khaki pants were tucked into tall boots, and she wore a green tank top under a thin, white button-up. Most of the buttons were undone, and the sleeves were rolled up. Already the white was ruined with dirt, but she didn't mind, and she proudly displayed the dog tags and key around her neck. Her backpack was small, but loaded, and the compact weight meant nothing to her, considering that she was genetically modified. She adjusted the straps and walked into the village, her red ponytail swaying behind her. She had work to get done.

So far she hadn't encountered Chris, but she had seen BSAA teams in the general area. She simply avoided them, although she would have loved to get her hands on their data. She hadn't learned much since arriving, but that was expected. After all, she had walked into this situation rather blindly.

During her first week here, she'd paid a visit to TriCell HQ, but no one would agree to see a Terrasave representative. It was their loss, because Claire hadn't come here to play nice. This game's stakes were too high, and so she'd taken the liberty of asking for a small tour of the facility if nothing else, and it had worked. She'd knocked out her guide, stolen his ID, and taken the liberty of nosing about. His card pass even opened a secured room leading deeper into the building, where she'd used an employee's computer to look at the company's projects. The problem: everything was so basic, cheap, and clean. It was like the company wasn't working on anything, which meant that it most certainly was. Nothing was this easy.

And that woman…Claire delved into her memory.

_"What are you doing here?" Claire turned to locate the person who had interrupted her work. It was a woman, tall with silky, dark hair that was tied up into a bun. Her dress left nothing to the imagination, as her breasts pressed against the red fabric holding them back, and her thighs stood exposed by long slits. She was beautiful, but the haughty expression that she wore proved that her personality wasn't nearly as pleasant. Slender, perfect arms folded across her chest as she waited for Claire to respond. _

_"None of your business," Claire tartly told her. The condescending look that she was receiving begged her to be sharp with this other woman, who struck her as slightly slimy. Claire sensed that she'd run up against a dangerous force. _

_"Why, what a mouthy brat," her opponent purred. She pressed a button on the wall and spoke. "Remove her to a holding cell for questioning. I'm already late for my meeting with Albert." Claire froze, hoping that she'd say more, but she didn't. "Enjoy our hospitality," she told Claire, dismissing her as done for. Claire was ever glad that her hair was hidden beneath a hat, and that sunglasses shielded her eyes. Nothing this woman said would automatically tip off Wesker._

_"You go to meetings dressed like a slut?" Claire couldn't help but snidely ask. _

_"I wouldn't be cocky, if I were you," the other woman smugly returned. And Claire had pushed her aside and made a run for it. If not for her superhuman abilities, she would have been caught, but as was, she found a window to jump out of once she lost her pursuers. From there it was a run across grassland toward freedom. Obviously she wasn't going to find answers at the official building._

So she'd gone to the source of the trouble: Kijuju. She'd heard the rumors, and she'd mixed with the locals, but to little success. Mostly, she learned how to talk and act to weasel information out of the people here, but it wasn't easy, especially considering the language barrier. She had to find her own interpreters or foreigners to fill her in, but at least people seemed to trust her more than BSAA. It probably had something to do with the fact that she lived among the locals and didn't openly carry weapons. She kept them tucked out of sight and made sure to be friendly. Of course, nothing had helped against that crazed man who had tried to bite her two days ago. Infection was written all over this region.

"This is the place," she said, eyeing the house. It was little more than a hovel with a small, fenced area behind the building. She had been told that there was a sick person in the family here, but not physically sick. The person she had talked to called it 'head sickness' and majini. Claire didn't know what they meant, but she had come anyway since rumors of abnormal people were ravaging the countryside.

"Hello?" she called, knocking on the doorpost since there was no door. No one answered, but her sharp ears picked up the sound of a crying woman. She tentatively stepped inside, muscles tensing as she did so. That smell—she shook her head, trying to rid her nostrils of the scent. She had been smelling this throughout the town, but never this strong. It was overpowering and resembled decay, but there was no blood, just rot and sickness, like pus. She followed her nose, as disgusting at it was, and found herself in the yard. A woman was hunched against a wooden board while softly crying into her hands. A child sat beside her, head hidden in the mother's lap.

"Hello?" Claire called, heartbroken by the scene. The woman instantly looked at her and started yelling in a language that Claire did not understand. "I'm sorry," she said. "I can't help you…oh shit." Claire's eyes had trailed to the end of the yard, where a man sat facing the fence. She had noticed him before, but she assumed that he was just crying like the others. But the smell became stronger as he moved. Claire's stomach knotted at the stench. She had never smelled anything this horrible in her entire life.

"He must be the sick one," she decided. She had come here to see if the behavior of the sick matched what she knew of viruses, and so she walked closer to the man, but very carefully. The woman behind started screaming frantically, and Claire wondered if it was a warning. "Sir?" she called. She could now see the back of his neck, and the veins were bulging outward in an odd, purple color. The thought of her own tinted blood entered her mind, and she readied herself for a fight. "Sir?"

Slowly, the man's head swung to the side, followed by his body twisted around. He seemed fully functional, but the eyes were odd. The pupils were mere slits, and the irises an off shade of yellow. Claire stepped back with a grimace. There was no doubt that he was infected with something, but she had never seen someone like this. He was staring at her like she was prey, yet he didn't mindlessly attack. Leon had told her about something similar in Spain, but it couldn't be the same type of infection, could it? And Wesker had been involved in Leon's situation, as she recalled. The puzzle pieces danced about her head, but they wouldn't connect.

"Stay away," Claire told the man. He still stood and took a step toward her, the eyes focused on her throat. "Don't think about it." Suddenly the man lunged, but for Claire his movements were easy to outmaneuver. With incredible speed, her pistol was out, and she fired a single shot into the man's chest. Female screaming and a child's cries filled her ears, but Claire did not look away from her target. Something odd was happening. She stepped backward, watching the man and the strange squirming motion that had started in his throat. It looked like something was alive in there, moving, churning in his flesh, waiting to burst free.

"Get out of here," a voice warned. Claire knew that voice. It belonged to that man who'd come to give her advice before. He was here now, keeping his distance in the home's doorway, white scarf wrapped around his head and vest pockets brimming with who-knows-what. "Move, girl." Claire took one last look at the writhing man, and then she followed the stranger's instructions. Why wasn't the fallen man counterattacking or hurting the family? In fact, the family seemed to be concerned for the monster, as they rushed to his side and began shaking him. Claire didn't understand, but she pocketed the pistol and joined the stranger outside on the street.

"What was that?" she asked him.

"Not here," he said. "Come, this way." Claire frowned.

"How do I know that you're not working against me?" she demanded. He stopped, glancing over his shoulder at her.

"You don't, but I'm not with them. That will have to be good enough." Claire didn't like it, but she followed him through the dirty town toward a small butcher's shop. "Inside, quickly." He locked the door, shut the windows, and pulled thin curtains over them. Claire glanced around the shop, which was a drab brown with a small counter near the door and a chalkboard with mounted on the wall. She could smell residue blood, and her system told her to find it, but she did not heed the call. "This place is not safe, girl," the butcher was saying. "I don't know why you came here."

"To find out what's happening," she stated.

"Are you sure you want to know?" The man, who was much larger than her and covered head to toe in dirt and sweat from a long day of work, moved to a table where a shotgun lay. "I called the BSAA, but they haven't come yet. Are you with them?"

"I work for the same cause, but I'm not directly affiliated. So what was that thing back there? Does TriCell have something to do with this?" A familiar cramping sensation hit her abdomen, but she ignored it. She had been suffering from slight abdominal pains for the last week, but they were periodic and short lived, so she could ignore them. She focused on watching the man before her and waiting for him to speak.

"I hope you've got some weapons on you, girl," he said.

"You bet I do," she affirmed, and then she noticed the crate sitting behind him, the barrel of a machine gun sticking out the top. "Are you really a butcher?" she probed. The man's face was firm, and he didn't answer. She was guessing that his silence meant 'no', and her caution meter rose. He began telling her about Kijuju, and the more she listened, the more her frown deepened. This was troubling, but she was also relieved. Finally she was getting somewhere.


	8. Chapter 8: Working Solo

Chapter 8: Working Solo

Claire woke up and immediately knew that something was wrong. She was hungry, and her abdomen was tingling with dull pain, both of which were unfamiliar sensations. This had been happening for a week, and she sadly hadn't packed any food because she was accustomed to rarely eating. Now she regretted not packing any snack bars, but she couldn't have anticipated this. Her face scrunched in confusion as she stood up from the small cot where she had spent the night. Sleep—another thing that she seldom needed, but last night she had felt like she needed a nap. That it had turned into five whole hours when she didn't want it too bothered her. She only slept for long periods if it was intentional.

She pulled her hair into a fresh ponytail while her abdomen throbbed. What if the virus had mutated? The thought struck her with fear, and she had the urge to contact Wesker, but that was impossible. Whatever was happening to her body would have to be dealt with on her own. It wasn't a comforting idea, but these weren't comforting times, especially after her discussion with the 'butcher'. Apparently a man named Irving was suspected of smuggling and distributing viral samples. He was also a former TriCell employee, but Claire had her doubts about the 'former' part. TriCell was probably just putting on a good face for the public.

Claire walked for the door, craving food like never before. Suddenly the smell of old blood coming from downstairs was impossible to ignore. An image of a dog's corpse flashed through her mind, and she shook her head in revulsion. She had to find something to eat or her stomach was going to kill her. With her backpack firmly in place, her booted feet plodded downstairs, where the butcher was standing by the window. He was carefully scanning the streets as if an attack might be sprung at any second, and Claire didn't blame him. Living here would have made her paranoid too.

"Are you okay?" he asked her. Claire wondered why he insisted on the white headscarf, but maybe he was bald and didn't want his head to get burnt.

"I'm fine, why?"

"You don't look well." Claire's jaw pinched as the tingling in her stomach grew. What the hell was going on? She mentally commanded her body to stop being a pain in the ass.

"Do you have any food to spare?" she asked him. He nodded and motioned to his left.

"The cupboard above the counter." Claire eagerly took the load of bread that she found there, plus a jar of peanut butter, and made herself a sandwich. As soon as the food vanished into her mouth, the tingling sensation lessened, and the hunger faded. _Thank goodness_. She laid a hand on her stomach, pressing against the skin and muscle to see if any pain remained.

"Be careful what you eat around here," the butcher cautioned. "It's not always safe."

"Thanks for the warning. Do you have any idea where I should start looking for Irving?"

"You'll have to find him on your own. I can't risk more searching without getting into danger. The locals are…being drawn together by this." His words settled over Claire and left her feeling trapped in an aura of creepiness. She didn't want to spend one more minute than necessary in this quarantined region. "I'll wait for BSAA. Then maybe more can be done. They might be better equipped than you to find Irving."

"Probably, but don't count me out. Thanks for your help," Claire said, walking to the door. "I really appreciate it, and if a man by the name of Chris Redfield shows up, please tell him that Umbrella used to have a base in this area. He'll understand why that's important." She went to leave, but the man laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Take an extra sandwich," he said. "And I suggest not eating first thing when you wake up. I had a wife once, and she always said that it was better to wait a little." Claire had no idea what he was talking about, but she decided to take the sandwich offer anyway.

"Okay…thanks." She tucked another sandwich into her backpack, and then she was out the door, the butcher's parting words forgotten in the African heat. Knowing what she did now, every local that passed her made her muscles tense. She looked at their eyes to search for signs of infection, for maybe if she could follow the infected, she'd find Irving. She couldn't think of another option, but if she could figure how the people were getting infected, that would be a splendid start. She kept stopping people and saying 'majini', but that only earned her sharp responses and distance.

Finally Claire decided to take a risk and neatly climbed onto the roof of a taller building. Leaning out over the edge, she scanned the town, looking for vehicles or signs of outsiders. Irving wouldn't blend in, and neither would his men, so maybe she'd get lucky. She thought that perhaps she'd struck gold when she saw dust rising in the distance, and so she jumped from roof to roof, getting closer to what she identified as an approaching Jeep. She left the heights, kept her head down, and studied the occupants from an alley. The car doors opened, feet swung out…

"Chris?" Claire breathed. There was no mistaking her sibling, but she did not recognize the beauty with the shotgun that was accompanying him. Her first instinct was to run to them, but she quickly opted for pressing back against the wall for concealment. The last discussion with her brother hadn't been the best, and she wasn't here to work with him—aid him, yes; stop Wesker, yes; kill Wesker, no, but that's exactly what Chris was striving for. Going to him would imply that she had the same goal in mind, and to tell him otherwise would be disastrous. His trust in her had already been shaken once.

Claire was stuck in the middle, and that's where she was going to need to stay if she had any hope of foiling Wesker without losing him. She had to keep distant from Chris or he'd attempt to form a roadblock between her and the tyrant, and she couldn't allow that. When the time came, she planned on being there at Wesker's side, however this struggle ended. She smiled at herself, for she was an utter fool to think that everyone could get out alive, but she wasn't changing her plans either. She simply didn't know how to accomplish her task. She might very well get killed and never see Wesker again, as much as she hated that possibility.

"Goodbye for now, Chris," she whispered, promptly spinning and running in the opposite direction. She was soon back on the roofs and spying. The heat rose in waves around her, and the sun glaringly reflected off of the metal sheets that served as roofs on some buildings. Dirt from the street dusted her skin as she raised binoculars to her eyes while keeping her body lowered. It wouldn't do for Chris to spot her, but she might be forced to go to him if she had no luck here. BSAA might get ahead of her, and then she'd be dependent on tailing them, but she didn't like that option. She'd rather work alone and occasionally pass them information that might aid them, and so she watched and waited.

Nothing interesting presented itself until she noticed a small crowd of people walking together. It was an odd sight given the skittish nature of the locals, and soon she was on the ground, trailing them. Five women were talking excitedly, and they were moving toward to a small, dark building without windows. They paused at the entrance to quietly discuss something, but then they filed inside, and Claire could not follow without being noticed. Once she was sure that they were not coming back outside, she slid her back along the wall and peeked around the doorframe. Her targets were half hidden by the shadowy inside, but she could still make out their movements.

A sixth woman had joined them, and she was holding a basket. At least Claire thought that it was a woman; it was difficult to tell given the figure's cloaked body, but the light frame suggested femininity. Her hands were inside the basket, rummaging and pulling out items. Claire had no idea what the small objects were that were being passed around, but the other women cradled them like they were precious. She sniffed the air and frowned. There was that smell again, but from whom was it coming? She didn't see any of the infected, and her ears weren't picking up the sound of approaching feet. Her eyes remained fixed on the women, and she realized that they were eating whatever had been in their hands. It seemed innocent enough until their bodies started reacting.

One woman fell to the ground, grasping at the dirt floor with her nails, her breath expelled in short bursts. Another was leaning against the wall, her throat convulsing like the man that Claire had seen before, and the only thing running through her mind while she watched was, "What the hell?" If this is what infection looked like, these women had to be crazy to willingly victimize themselves. Claire assumed that they would become violent, and since there were five possible opponents, she bypassed her pistol and went straight for the shotgun strapped to the side of her backpack. It wasn't subtle and would draw attention, but screw subtle. Subtle was a waste during a crisis.

"Mission complete." Claire only then realized that the sixth woman, the one who had supplied the food, hadn't eaten anything. Beyond the cloak, Claire couldn't make out her features, but she did see the phone pressed to the woman's half-exposed ear. "They're highly contagious and willing," the woman continued in an oddly subdued, monotone voice. "Infection test should be complete in days. Report and prepare for data collection." Claire jumped behind a large stack of clay pots to avoid being seen as the woman exited the building. With incredible speed, she was moving, leaving the scene, and leaving Claire with several hostile infected stumbling into the daylight. They still had the basket, and it was brimming with more of those strange objects.

_Go while the getting's good_, she told herself. Part of her wanted to stay and destroy the majini, but if she did, the mysterious woman who'd fed them might be long gone. Claire couldn't risk it. This was her chance to find Irving, and so she bolted, flying through the town with ease. She passed an open door, and the smell of infection slapped her face. She briefly turned and noted a dark man moving toward her, but he couldn't catch her. Damn, how many people had already been infected? She frowned and dodged behind a wall to watch the cloaked figure ahead.

The woman was heading for a parked vehicle, where she removed another case of some unnamed supply and moved to set it inside a building. This was it, but the backpack was definitely going to be a problem if her newly concocted plan would work. Reluctant fingers loosened the straps and dropped it behind a building. She slung her rifle and shotgun across her shoulders, and tucked extra ammo into her belt. She would have to leave her clothing and other supplies behind, but the essentials were with her: GPS, the sandwich, and weapons.

Claire was a blur as she ran and dove beneath the car, barely hiding from view before the cloaked figure returned. Her fingers hooked onto the car's undercarriage, and she lifted herself from the ground. The car started, and Claire watched dirt and rocks roll away beneath her. She was well on her way to wreaking havoc on Wesker's plans.

**********

It hadn't worked, and it didn't appear that it would ever work. Wesker stood before the control terminal with a face of stone, the entire room vacant courtesy of his foul mood. Excella had paid him a visit earlier, but it was so apparent that he was inclined to hurt something that she had quickly left him to his devices. She did not know about the project that he had been conducting in his free time, or if she did, she remained silent on the matter. It was a wise decision on her part.

Wesker's finger punched a button, and the computer beeped.

"Project terminated," an electronic voice announced. Wesker scowled. Yes, terminated. The damn project was finished, and there were no results to show for it. He wasn't accepting defeat, but the setback was annoying. Every single one of Claire's eggs had failed to last more than a day, except for one, which had managed an entire week of life. He had thought that the last egg had proven his calculations correct: the eggs needed a virus rich environment to thrive, and he'd given it to that last sample. The cells had begun dividing so quickly that the computer estimated that the gestation period would be a mere four months instead of eight. It had all been so promising right up to the point where he entered the lab one evening to find the developing child dead.

His fists clenched, the leather gloves softly cracking, and then he shut down the computer. There was either a missing component somewhere, or the virus simply could not handle a full-term pregnancy. It appeared that viral traits both stimulated growth and doomed it, becoming unstable at a rapid rate, which wasn't a complete surprise. The original virus was made to alter existing cells, not create them from scratch, and perhaps it had problems interpreting reproductive instructions. If the carefully crafted lab environment couldn't keep the virus from eventually destroying itself, Wesker doubted that a fertilized egg would last any longer in a host. After all, science made perfection possible where nature did not. He had no faith in the human body to accomplish what careful experiments could not. Still, with a matured host nurturing it, perhaps the course would have been different.

Wesker dismissed his last thought and marched from the room. This problem would have to be resolved at a later date. The uroboros project was too important to be halted for reproductive questions that could be investigated and solved later, after the world was altered. He needed to concentrate on the goal at hand unless he wanted to be delayed, and he hated delays. Opening a door, his dark mood manifested itself in his complete refusal to acknowledge Excella as he entered the main control room of their underground lab.

"Work not going smoothly?" Excella slyly smiled. Wesker didn't respond as he stood before a monitor, studying the image of a large cargo plane. "Hmmm, it appears that you aren't satisfied with our work, Albert." One of her hands slid across his shoulders as she walked around him.

"Are we on schedule?" he coldly asked.

"Yes, of course," she dismissed. "All you ever want to talk about is time and progress." His face shifted toward her.

"I'm not here for pleasure."

"Really?" she purred. "That's a shame. And here I thought that changing the world was your pleasure."

"It's all a matter of time, dear lady." He sat back to wait for Irving to call and report on the infection rate. Knowing how quickly las Plagas II naturally spread would be useful for future reference. "Did your company catch that intruder?" he asked, curious. Normally the issue wouldn't have mattered to him, but the fact that an amateur spy had bested Excella amused him.

"She is still loose," Excella scoffed. "But what does it matter? She found nothing, and soon she'll be like the rest of them." Wesker did have to wonder how the foolish intruder had managed to escape, but he didn't care enough to look into it. There was very little that he cared about anymore. "You terminated your side project?" Excella asked.

"Yes." But he didn't appreciate being reminded of the failure.

"Are you surprised?" she honestly questioned. "Your virus is unstable, so how could a fetus be stable enough to survive?" Wesker said nothing, but regarded her with a blank expression. "Perhaps with more research, you will be successful. Children have been born in tubes before." She coyly turned and smiled at him. "Then again, perhaps you need to try more humans for genetic acceptance." Her long legs strode closer to him, and her dark hair was let loose over her shoulders. "Think about it, Albert." She swerved and left the room, leaving him alone. He was indeed busy thinking.


	9. Chapter 9: Everyone's Here

Chapter 9: Everyone's Here

Claire breathed a sigh of relief when the car stopped, for even though she wasn't tired and could have clung to the undercarriage for much longer, the engine's vibrations had been irritating her arms. She remained hidden, holding herself off of the ground as the car door opened. The mysterious woman was stepping out of the vehicle and opening the rear hatch. From what Claire could see, they appeared to be in some kind of garage.

"My silent friend is back," a male voice greeted. Claire's head turned toward the voice, but all she could see was a pair of pointed shoes with small heels.

"The samples were distributed," the oddly detached female responded.

"Good," and the man happily clapped his hands together. His feet were a mere foot away from Claire, and she would have given anything to see the faces above her. "Within hours the town will be in full swing."

"The BSAA were there. Agents were meeting with an informant."

"It doesn't matter. The populace will attack together thanks to the plagas. The agents will be dead by the end of tomorrow."

"Combat teams will arrive. They're searching for you." Claire now excitedly paid attention to the pointed shoes. Was this Irving?

"They won't be able to stop the infection," he dismissed. "They'll all die, and won't the boss be pleased! We'll head in tomorrow to see the damage, and I've a feeling that another dose of plagas will be needed. I want to see the more powerful ones take over some bodies. Science is such a dynamic field!" Was this man serious? Claire found his chipper voice grating, and the glib way that he was talking about this situation made her want to break his toes.

"And the informant? I could remove him."

"He'll be gone too. No need dirtying our hands when the locals will do it for us." Claire found the pair incredibly juxtaposed with his energy level and her deadpan style. "I've got to go." The man was walking away. "I guess you can do whatever it is your master's commanded." The man seemed to find something about his statement amusing, but Claire couldn't imagine what it was. She was left hanging onto the car while both people left. She checked her watch: 4:30. With a sigh, she realized that it would be best to wait here until an hour when her enemies were likely to be asleep. Then she could explore the base at will.

She lowered herself to the ground and gingerly pressed a hand against her stomach. Perhaps the car's vibrations had agitated whatever was wrong with her, for that tingling sensation had returned. Gently, her fingers moved under her shirt and across the skin. It was hard to characterize what she felt. For a moment her muscles tensed, and she closed her eyes to will the sensation away. It wasn't exactly painful, but the skin across her abdomen felt like it was being tightened. Her hand continued to explore the area, and she noted that the rim of her underwear bit into her skin as if it was too small.

What the hell? Claire could have sworn that this pair was never so tight before. Again, she considered what was going on with her body. Wesker said that the infected couldn't get sick, and even if they did, that wouldn't explain the tightness of her skin. She sighed with relief when the tenseness passed, and she realized that her skin again felt the proper size. Her hands rested lightly on her stomach, and then she remembered the butcher's words about his wife. Why on earth would he make a comment like that? Claire took a second to think about what he'd actually been suggesting, and suddenly her eyes snapped wide open.

There was no possible way.

Her hands roamed over her stomach and her underwear line.

There was simply no way.

She pulled up her shirt and stared at her abdomen. She hadn't used protection with Wesker, because she had assumed that she couldn't get pregnant. The more she stared, the more she was convinced that her abdomen looked swollen, but that was ridiculous. Being pregnant wasn't noticeable after a mere two weeks. Convinced that she was imagining things, Claire forced herself to stop touching that area of her body. She was being paranoid, or so she convinced herself, but thoughts plagued her mind. Where was a pregnancy test when she needed one?

"You're not pregnant," she softly sighed into the stuffy garage air. She checked the time again. 4:45. This was torture. _Just give me a freaking zombie or something!_ Now she was going insane, she decided. Wanting a zombie as a distraction was definitely not a good sign.

She forced herself to remain still and wait. Darkness would afford her plenty of cover for action. Her nerves were starting to cool when she caught the faintest whiff of a smell. It reminded her of something. It was familiar, subtle as it was. She shifted across the ground to get closer to the scent's trail. She breathed deeply, trying to match a source to the positive connotation that she automatically lent the scent. It was like trying to catch a fleeting dream upon waking. Maybe if the scent were stronger, she'd have a better chance of identifying it.

Claire very carefully slid out from under the car and crouched near the driver's door. That's where the smell was coming from. The window was down, so she stuck her head inside, feeling a bit foolish as she compared her actions to that of an animal. As her nose neared the seat, recognition dawned on her. _Jill_. She blinked a few times before realizing how vulnerable she was, and quickly slid back beneath the car. _There could be a security camera, Claire! Pay attention! But it smells like Jill…Isn't Jill dead? Maybe not_. Claire suddenly found it much more difficult to hide under the car until dark. If Jill was here, she was going to find her.

**********

_Creak._

Claire paused, her pistol at the ready. Fluorescent lights hung overhead in a narrow hallway of chipped tile and dirty metal walls. Obviously this place had fallen out of disuse, probably because it was only a temporary base. It vaguely resembled an old Umbrella building, for Claire had seen what she thought could pass for an abandoned laboratory room, but it could have also been an office building in its glory days.

Claire gave the half-opened door before her another nudge, and this time it didn't creak. The metal swung inward, and she tiptoed into the room beyond. This room was larger than the others, with gigantic sliding doors on the opposite wall, and a dirt floor. It looked like a loading bay with the numerous crates sitting around. She checked the boxes for logos, but there were none, and most of them were empty.

She bypassed the broken crates and took a small flight of stairs down to the ground, where a short stack of sealed, metal cases stood. The shiny gleam of new metal contrasted sharply with the decay of its surroundings, and Claire ran a hand over the smooth surface. She again caught the faint scent that she knew to be Jill, and wondered why there were only ever traces. Locating the woman had become her main objective in this place, yet she couldn't latch onto a trail strong enough to find the woman. Maybe Jill had passed through and was already gone.

"Let's see what they're storing," Claire muttered, fingers pressing into the seal release buttons along the side of the stack's top container. The lid flipped open with a soft pressurized hiss, and Claire found herself staring at…well, she wasn't sure exactly, but it was ugly. A brown, wormlike creature was lying there, and it even looked slimy, like a slug. Disgusting. And whatever it was, it might be dangerous, so she decided to reseal the lid and take one with her to pass off to BSAA. She was in the process of shutting the box when the worm jerked to the side, momentarily flipping back and forth.

Claire paused as it stopped moving. Not only was it ugly, but it made the most unpleasant suction-like sound whenever its slimy body pulled off of a surface. Plus it smelled like the infected people. This had to be the cause of infection, but it didn't look like any experiment that she'd seen before. Leon had mentioned something about wormy parasites, but he'd never said whether or not Ada had successfully grabbed a sample for Wesker. Whatever the case might be, she'd found the source of a new threat. It was definitely better off in storage.

The lid was almost closed when the worm thrust upward, shooting out of the remaining crack and straight for her throat. Claire immediately ducked, and the creature sailed over her head. She turned, pistol raised to shoot the thing, but it had already disappeared. _Oh shit. Umbrella creature on the loose_! Claire mentally slapped herself for opening the case, and hurriedly scanned the room. There was no sign of it, but the worm reeked, and for the first time, Claire was happy about that.

Her eyes shifted to a row of open crates where her nose told her that it was hiding, and her feet stealthily glided toward them. For a moment she heard a sucking nose, and then there was a sharp yelp that she hadn't expected. She came to an open crate that was lying on its side, and crouched to look inside. A stray dog was sitting inside, head lulling from side to side, and tongue dangling loosely. Its throat was convulsing, and Claire frowned. That thing had gone for her throat, and the locals had transformed after eating something. Her face paled and she stepped back while thanking any powers that be that she'd managed to duck. The dog lifted its head, eyes gleaming a dull red now, and the pupils turned to slits.

_Great_. The animal charged, and Claire raised her gun to fire, but her finger hesitated. _Guns make noise; you're sneaking around_.

"Damn it!" Claire propelled herself sideways and watched snapping jaws whizz by her head. The dog crashed into another crate with a pained growl. In seeming frustration, it bit into the wood, ripping a board loose before spinning about. Claire was ready for it and moved into a crouch. Already, her blue eyes were beginning to swirl with golden flecks, and coupled with her position, she almost looked as feral as the dog.

The dog ran for her, but Claire didn't move. She remained where she was, waiting for the right moment. Being infected for an extended period of time had given her ample opportunity to grow confident in her enhancements, and she knew exactly what she was capable of. When gnashing teeth were about to descend on her shoulder, her arm snapped outward, fingers wrapping around a furry throat. She stood, lifting the writhing animal from the ground, and easily snapped its neck. With a yelp, the animal went limp, and Claire tossed it aside. Her hands felt incredibly dirty, and she automatically wiped them on her pants.

She was walking away when she heard a wet slurping sound. That could not be good. She turned, finding the dog back on its feet, but the head was hanging, connected only by a thin flap of tough skin. It struck Claire as disturbingly unnatural, even for an infected creature, and then a long, brown appendage emerged from the blood cavern of its open throat. Like a snake, it stretched out across the ground, spikes emerging from the softer flesh as the animal's legs wobbled and turned toward Claire.

She was formulating an attack plan when someone beat her to the punch. Gunshots rang out; continuously thundering into the dog until the body was a spray of blood and body parts across the floor. Claire had moved away to watch from a distance as the same, cloaked figure from before stepped into view, a smoking rifle in her hands. The hooded face was turned toward her, but the figure did nothing, as if waiting to see what Claire would do.

"Who are…?" Claire's words died on her tongue as the air was filled with a new scent. "Jill?" she blurted, disbelieving. A million questions erupted in her head. Why was Jill working with Irving? Why had she infected those villagers? "Jill? It is you, isn't it?" Claire double-checked. The figure remained mute, and Claire cautiously walked closer. Her hand tentatively rose, seizing the edge of the hood, and the woman who might be Jill did nothing to stop her. The hand remained suspended, Claire instinctively dreading what she might find.

Fabric rustled and the hood was pushed backward. Claire gasped. For such familiar features, the expression was so unnaturally dead. That was all she had time to think before Jill hit her in the side of the head. Claire crumbled, her vision beginning to fade. She should have been able to block the attack, but Jill seemed much faster than before—inhumanly fast, like herself. She tried to fight the approaching darkness, but another sharp hit smacked her into the ground.

"Well, well, well, where did she come from?" Irving? Wasn't that Irving's voice? It was the last thing she heard before her eyes completely closed.

*********

Debris rained down on Chris's head, small chips of broken cement left in his hair as he shook off the shock of the attack. He dodged to the side as the massive brute before him swung the sledgehammer yet again, now completely destroying the wall that he'd been trapped against. His shotgun was up, round after round driving into the gray flesh of his opponent, who towered over him with its bulky, lumbering weight. Bloody holes dotted the thing's body, but it continued to advance across the open square despite the pain.

"Shit!" Chris cursed as he ran out of ammo.

"Chris!" It was Sheva. His head swung around, sweat running into his eyes and burning. His partner stood a short distance away, beating a villager with a metal pipe. The man was on the ground, clawing his way toward her legs, but the lithe woman was strong for her size, and her blows eventually stilled the infected body. "We've got to get out of here!" she yelled, and tossed the bloody pipe aside. "There are too many of them!"

"You think?" Chris sarcastically asked as he continued backing toward her, reloaded gun peppering the executioner.

"Let's go!" Sheva grabbed his arm and pulled him away. They stayed close as they ran through streets that swarmed with enraged infected. One moment everything had seemed fine, if a little too quiet, but then hell had erupted all around them. They'd recently been tipped off about Irving and had been searching for him, learning more about the majini and finding several, but now—now it was a game of survival, and their informant had been reduced to a headless corpse.

"We've got to get back to the car," Chris said. Sheva, her purple tank top speckled with blood, grabbed his arm, and they ducked into an alley for rest.

"How did the parasite spread so fast?" Sheva marveled aloud. "And why would they infect people like this?"

"They're sick, heartless bastards; that's why," Chris answered. He winced as his right forearm brushed against the wall. A large cut graced his limb, and Sheva told him to shut up while she used a piece of cloth to bind it.

"To the car," she said. "Keep up."

"Yeah right," Chris shot back. She briefly smiled at him as they walked toward the end of the alleyway. Sheva reached the sunlight first and immediately gasped, jerking backward. Chris only saw the downward swing of a massive hammer, for Sheva had fallen back onto him, knocking them both to the ground. Sheva remained where she was, pistol exploding into action, her aim beautifully honed on the executioner's hand. With a roar, the thing was forced to drop its weapon, and Sheva took the opportunity to dash forward and slice it across the neck with her knife. However, it was a short victory, as a wide swipe of an arm sent her flying across the street.

"Sheva!" Chris stood while the creature went after her, but as he jogged forward, an object caught his eye. It was a backpack—a pink backpack. He glanced at Sheva to make sure that she was handling herself for the moment, and then opened the bag. Grenades, charges, a water bottle, but it was a small lighter that made his brow furrow. It was black with the pink outline of an angel on the side. He'd given it to Claire for her birthday last year. He tucked it into his pants and began unpinning a grenade for the executioner. His world felt like it was crumbling.


	10. Chapter 10: Can't Hold Back

Chapter 10: Can't Hold Back

Someone, somewhere was talking. If she focused, maybe she'd be able to discern his words. Groggily, Claire's eyes slipped open. Jill hadn't been messing around with that hit to the head, but Claire couldn't fathom where the woman had gotten such strength. Very few people could hit Claire hard enough to cause damage, and that unexpected power coupled with the hooded appearance altogether baffled her. Words. That's right. She was trying to eavesdrop.

"There's no identification," Irving was saying.

"We must report this," Jill said, but it was hard for Claire to think of that woman as Jill. The voice, the expression, and the vacant personality—everything suggested that Jill had been erased and replaced with something else.

"Yeah, yeah, we'll report it. We wouldn't want Wesker to get upset." They couldn't tell Wesker, Claire frantically though. The game would end before she even got to accomplish anything! She sat up and leaned against the wall, finding herself in a shoddy office. Her movement drew their attention, and soon Irving and Jill were facing her from the table where he'd been sitting and her standing.

"You're awake rather quickly," Irving beamed. He stood and walked closer, his fingers fidgeting at his side. There was something about the man that screamed eccentric, whether it was his constant movement, inflective voice, or the sheer curiosity with which he was staring at her. "Stone woman over there says that you managed to track her here and were snooping around." He cocked an odd, lopsided smile. "Well, we don't like snoopers."

"Wesker will decide what to do with her," Jill suggested. Claire desperately tried to make eye contact with her former friend, but the hood was securely back in place.

"Why bother him?" Irving sighed. "Wesker this, Wesker that. I suppose he is a genetic marvel. The viruses are just so…" He glanced at Claire.

"She might be with BSAA," Jill stated.

"True, so let's take her with us. We'll leave her to be killed with her fellow agents. Wesker would kill her anyway."

"Maybe not," Jill insisted.

"Maybe not? Why?" Jill remained silent. "Fine. Put her in the jeep. We'll go from the town to the oil fields. Wesker can deal with her in person." Irving left the room, and Claire found herself alone with the cloaked fighter.

"Jill?" she tried, but there was no response. "What are you doing working for Wesker? Chris is worried sick, thinking that you're dead or in trouble. You have no idea how much your disappearance has haunted him." Still no response. The real Jill would never behave like this, and the more Claire contemplated the dead behavior, the more a crack in her heart widened. "He did something to you," she sadly sighed. She knew what Wesker was capable of, but still, as the cloaked figure impassively stood there, as if she didn't even recognize Claire, the redhead felt a single tear run down her cheek.

"Ugh…" Claire rapidly bent forward, her abdomen erupting in pain. Her skin felt like it was being yanked in two different directions, being stretched to the point of rupturing. She breathed heavily; eyes clenched shut, waiting for it to pass. When a hand touched her shoulder, she looked up with uncertainty. Jill's hand was on her shoulder, pushing her back against the wall while the other landed atop Claire's, which were crossed over her stomach.

"Do you need medical assistance?" Jill blankly asked. "You must survive to see Wesker. I know that he wants to see you." Claire felt another tear fall.

"Not yet. Please don't tell him yet." Jill was silent, and Claire desperately wanted to tear off the hood and burn it. "Jill…" She groaned in pain as her skin pulled even tighter, but then the feeling began to fade, and Claire was left tired and hungry. "I need something to eat," she softly said. Jill wordlessly rose and left the room, leaving Claire there to bask in the feeling of relief. Her hands roamed over her abdomen, and she was sure that she felt rounder.

Forcing her tired body to stand, she moved to an old, standing cabinet with a glass front. She lifted her tank top and stared at the weak reflection, her hands cupping the front of her body. There was definitely a slight bulge. Even when she put the shirt down, there was a trace of roundness that wouldn't go unnoticed if someone bothered to look at her. She ran a nervous hand through her hair and leaned against the wall. She should make her escape now, before they took her to Wesker, but she simply stood there, dumbfounded as reality began to sink in.

"I know you're there," Claire said, turning to find Jill standing behind her and holding out a hoagie. Claire readily accepted and ate the sandwich. When she was finished, Jill placed a firm hand on her elbow and led her out the door.

"Come with us," she instructed. That deadened voice was going to make another tear fall, Claire realized, fighting back the reaction. Wesker probably thought nothing of what he had done.

"Jill, I'm sorry," Claire apologized for her friend's condition. "I'm sorry for whatever he's done to you." They continued in silence, and Claire was ready to either beg or slap her friend back to normal, but she knew that it was pointless. Whatever hollow shell walked beside her now, emotions were not part of its existence. "What will you do if I run?" Claire asked

"You will be restrained and taken with us," came the quick response. "Wesker will want to see you."

"I'm sure he will…" And she wanted to see him too, but not like this. She didn't know if she was ready to fight him head on, and she really didn't know what to do about the pregnancy issue. _If you're pregnant_, she corrected. Her stomach wasn't abnormally large, and perhaps it was something else entirely. _You're pregnant. Shut up!_ But she'd always wanted a child. Already, Claire felt extremely protective of the life that might be inside of her. Her hands unconsciously went to the bulge and stroked it. Having children had been a dream of hers, and one that she'd all but given up after infection. But now…Claire's emotions were a jumble. _It's Wesker's child_. She wouldn't have wanted to have anyone else's child inside of her, but she didn't know how he would react. He'd once said that he didn't want children, but she didn't think that he'd harm his own either. He knew how important and precious this would be to her.

"Hands," Jill ordered. Claire obediently lifted her wrists, knowing that she could escape more easily later, when they were in the town. They'd taken her equipment, so she had no GPS with which to know where she was, but maybe they'd take her to familiar surroundings. Jill locked her hands in metal cuffs, and then pushed her into the back of a jeep. Irving was sitting in the passenger's seat, laptop open on his lap.

"For someone who chased us, you're awfully cooperative," he mused, glancing at Claire. "I don't suppose you're the spy that called Excella a slut?" He actually seemed pleased with her. "Unfortunately she's not an indiscriminate one…" _Please don't tell me about your fantasies_, Claire inwardly gagged. "So much for finding better company," Irving replied when Claire remained silent. "But you aren't fighting us either…"

"She wants to see him," Jill stated. Claire swallowed and leaned back into her seat. Irving, however, was looking at Jill with a confused expression.

"Who? Wesker? Why?" Jill was silent, and Irving's face scrunched in annoyance. Apparently he was used to being ignored by his companion. She was Wesker's pet, and that meant that she kept secrets from everyone but her master. "Everyone thinks that I'm just some unimportant grunt…," he complained. "I guess I'll let him know that we're bringing a guest." He lifted a phone to his ear and held it there with his shoulder while he typed.

"The data's coming in soon," he chirped into the cell. "We'll be there with the results soon. No, no snags, just an intruder. We're bringing her along for the ride. Jill says that you'll want to see her." Irving turned to look at Claire with a small smile on his face. "Red hair, blue eyes. She's being very good. There are no problems here. I don't know; let me ask." Claire glared at him, knowing full well that Wesker would know it was her by now. "What's your name?" Irving asked.

"Bite me," she spat. Irving chuckled.

"You don't want me to tell him that. So what's your name?" Claire decided to be a smartass and slightly smirked.

"Jennifer Fielding."

"Jennifer Fielding," Irving echoed into the phone. "Hmm? Well, her hands are tied at the moment. And she's behaving. We'll be careful. Just a moment." He grabbed the phone and held it out to Claire. "Lean forward," he ordered. Claire reluctantly did as told so that the phone was being held against her head.

"Miss Fielding?" Wesker's voice mockingly smiled. "It looks like you need saving again."

"Not this time," Claire said, aware of Irving's conspicuous staring.

"Obviously you're in a foul mood," Wesker chuckled. "We'll save this for later."

"Wait," Claire said. She didn't want Wesker to think that she needed to be sedated or something similar. She would give him the impression that she was somewhat willingly going to him. "We need to talk in private." She was looking out for her own ass, yet her words were still total sincerity. "I'm not feeling well." Irving eyed her like she was crazy, took back the phone, and was surprised that Wesker ordered him to be back at the base within twenty-four hours. The phone shut off, and Claire found herself falling asleep. Her abdomen was aching again, and she decided that if she could rest for at least ten minutes, she'd be fine. Just ten minutes, she told herself, eyes closing.

*******

"Stay here," Jill commanded. The jeep had been parked, and Irving jumped out and began walking away. Claire wondered where he was going until she saw the BSAA agent ahead. He was in combat gear, and there were several more men behind him, calmly waiting for Irving. Claire uneasily watched as they walked into a building together, and her natural instinct was to sneak closer, but as if sensing it, Jill turned and stared at her for a moment. Claire bit her lip and decided to wait—not because she didn't think that she'd best Jill, but because she didn't want to hurt her, and because perhaps waiting would be beneficial. She'd find out what was going on and then flee their company.

"Jill, I don't know if you're still in there," Claire said, feeling the urge to share something with the shadowy figure, "But Chris wanted to marry you. He picked out a ring and everything. I just want you to know that in case…in case something happens to any of us, and in case you really are gone." The thought pained Claire, and so she diverted her attention to her stomach. What would Wesker say about this? She wanted him to be pleased that she'd have his child. She felt a slight contentment at the thought of having created something with him, but at the same time, there was Jill, sitting like a zombie, and probably thanks to him. She knew that the topic would come up when they finally spoke, and she wasn't sure how she'd handle that. Maybe Jill was sitting there, secretly condemning Claire for caring about Wesker. Somehow the woman knew that Claire and Wesker were closer than permissible, and she always had. Now, stating that Claire wanted to see Wesker, she knew that the woman at least had Jill's memories.

"I hate seeing you like this," Claire said. Then Irving was running out of the building where he'd been meeting with the BSAA. He looked almost giddy, Claire realized with a disgusted frown. The thin man swung into the car with a smile.

"Let's go!" he shouted. "Pull out so we can watch this end. Wesker wants us to make sure that none of Alpha survives." Jill started the motor, and the vehicle began pulling away. Claire hurriedly stuck her head out the window and watched as the BSAA troops poured out of the building, running from something. Her hands gripped together in frustration. One man had just been yanked back into the building by a tentacle. She decided that she couldn't remain seated at a safe distance and watch them slaughtered; it was too much.

"That's good," Irving announced, and Jill stopped the car. They had driven far enough that the town again seemed silent. "We'll go check the situation in fifteen minutes. That should be more than enough time." Claire impatiently waited for her chance while Irving stepped out of the jeep and stretched. He stiffened when a mangy dog emerged growling from the shadows; however, he didn't seem overly bothered. He relaxed and turned to look at Jill. "Well?" Jill exited the jeep and marched forward, gun raised and executing the animal before it could attack. Claire considered that she was some type of bodyguard for Irving under Wesker's orders. There was nothing she could do about her friend for the time being, even if leaving bothered her.

She took her chance while Irving and Jill were looking elsewhere, and leapt from the car, making hardly any sound, and dashed into a side street. Her keen ears picked up the distant sound of combat with its guns and screams, and her pace quickened. She yanked her hands apart to easily shattered her restraints, and she was again free, but weaponless. Grimly, she focused on the scent of fresh blood, and her blue eyes completely disappeared. It was time to directly aid BSAA.

It seemed only seconds before she emerged onto a wider street where several bodies were littered. Everything had gone silent, but it seemed to her that a car was fast approaching. One shot, two. There were a few survivors. She maneuvered over the corpses and down another street, now completely lost but following the death trail. One of the fallen men's rifles ended up in her hands, as well as a long knife. The action should be just ahead.

"Sheva, try to get behind it!" Claire stopped thinking and madly ran for that voice. Chris was in trouble. She could hear slight pain affecting his words, and she had to find him. Jill. Wesker. Alpha. Her amber eyes burned intensely. No one was going to hurt Chris, not after the horrors she'd already seen here. Screw secrecy, she had no choice but to reveal herself to him. Besides, everyone else had figured out that she was here. _I'm coming, Chris._

Meanwhile, a hooded figure was drawing closer, trying to prevent the charge that she'd been ordered to deliver from escaping.


	11. Chapter 11: Freedom is Fleeting

Chapter 11: Freedom is Fleeting

"Alpha team is gone," Excella stated. She leaned a hip against the tabletop, and her white dress rode up a little higher on her thighs. Wesker wasn't looking, for he had his back to her, arms folded across his chest as he thought.

"Good," was his only response. He adjusted his sunglasses and stared at the monitor. Chris Redfield was in Africa, on his trail, and so was his sister. Jennifer Fielding. He smirked at her sarcasm and anticipated what he would show her. She didn't know his plans, but she would. He was almost eager to reveal it to her, to let her know that fighting was futile and that she would be at his side in the aftermath. She wouldn't like it, but once it was over, she would stay with him. Finally this conflict between loyalty to her brother and love for him would be terminated with Chris's death. Claire would not be able to hold the loss against him forever, just as she had always been unable to hate or push him away.

Was Claire really feeling unwell? He sincerely hoped that her body hadn't become unstable as his had. One glance at Excella was enough to tell him that he wouldn't entrust her with Claire's care if that were the case. He would tend to his fondness personally, and that in turn would strengthen their bond, easing the tension that arose from their currently conflicting goals. The day when she sided with him would be a true moment of victory, and what a brilliant ally she would make. 24 hours, he reminded himself, and no more. Jill was under strict orders to bring Claire to him within that timeframe, so it wouldn't be much longer.

************

"At least we're not in a basement anymore!" Sheva shouted.

"That makes me feel so much better!" Chris replied, leveling his pistol at the strange, writhing black mass before them. The two were slowly being driven back toward a long, metal wall. It was the last place that they wanted to be.

"Any more grenades?" Sheva asked.

"Nope. Watch out!" They flew in separate directions when the creature shot a long tentacle of entwined wormlike creatures at them. It missed and hit an abandoned car instead, and the limb literally split in two as it extended and ripped into the metal framework. Chris kept firing into what looked like the thing's head to no avail, and then came the dreaded moment when his gun clicked. It was empty, again.

"Chris! Heads up!" The presence of such a familiar voice stunned him.

"Claire?" He turned, and sure enough, a red ponytail flew by him, a clip of ammo falling through the air behind her. He caught it and reloaded while shouting at her. "Claire, stay back! What the hell?" She was running straight for the creature, and even Sheva stood open-mouthed.

"Who is…?" she began. Chris ran over to her while firing.

"Claire," he said. He'd never actually seen his sister in action, but he knew that she was stronger than him, perhaps as strong as Wesker. Still, he was beginning to panic as she heedlessly entered combat while weaponless.

"That's your sister?" Sheva asked. "Is she mad?" At that moment, Claire narrowed her amber eyes and braced herself against ground as the monster shot a tentacle at her. Her mouth twisted into a grim sneer as it propelled closer and closer, Sheva and Chris watching in horror.

"Claire!" Chris frantically yelled, all former difficulties between them forgotten. He couldn't even remember the multitude of questions that he had wanted her to answer. He only saw the black tentacle that would wipe out her existence. She was going to be killed. His baby sister was going to be impaled, and he was playing the helpless witness. He expected to see her reduced to a bloody mess, but instead his mouth dropped open in shock. Claire had ducked, and so quickly that he hadn't even registered her movements until after the fact.

A knife was in her hand, and as the tentacle flew over her head, she raised and held it steady, the blade connecting with the tender flesh. The limb's momentum kept it moving, and Claire was running forward, tearing the knife right down the center of the tentacle as dark blood dripped down the metal and over her hands. She didn't stop until she was at the creature's base, and then she withdrew the knife and lunged through an opening in its mass. She gracefully regained her balance and was free from danger as she ran to join Chris and Sheva. The monster was left in painful twisting.

"Any plan to finish it off?" she asked.

"Don't you ever do something like that again!" Chris shouted. "You could have been killed!" Claire smiled, unable to otherwise express how pleased she was that he had been concerned over her. Confronting him after the phone conversation had been clawing away at her until now.

"Her eyes," Sheva said, staring, and Claire realized that even Chris was studying her. _That's right_, she remembered; he'd never seen her when her viral side bloomed in combat or danger.

"It happens," she tried to dismiss, and then a frown quickly contorted her face. The creature had recovered and was moving toward them. "But I'm not one of them," she stressed. Sheva seemed about to say something, her eyes narrowed distrustfully, but Chris cut her off.

"You have a lot of talking to do, stupid," he told Claire. "But let's kill this thing first." The women wordlessly agreed, and Sheva pointed over her shoulder.

"There was a stack of oil barrels several streets over," she said. "Maybe we can blow it up."

"Sounds good," Claire agreed, and the three lured the monster in that direction. When the oil drums came into sight, Sheva began loosening the tops and spilling the contents. "Allow me," Claire suggested, and she proceeded to punch holes in one or two of the metal casings. Sheva's eyes widened at the sight.

"That's handy," she dryly commented, obviously still distrustful of Claire. "I'm Sheva, by the way."

"Claire Redfield." Chris was drawing the creature ever closer.

"You're not human," Sheva stated.

"Chris can explain later," Claire hurriedly interjected. "But trust me; I'm on your side." Sheva nodded and set a charge on the barrels. "That's mine," Claire smiled, recognizing the device. "You found my backpack."

"It was a timely gift," Sheva replied.

"Great. Chris is almost here. I'll stay so it gets close enough; you detonated the charge once it's on top of the barrels."

"How will you get out in time?" Sheva demanded.

"Just worry about blowing that thing to hell."

"First class ticket, coming up," and they exchanged satisfied grins. Claire had a feeling that she would get along well with this woman once they got to know each other, but that would have to wait until later. Sheva vacated the explosion zone while Chris turned to see Claire standing by the oil, her white over-shirt flapping in the breeze, amber eyes gleaming in the bright sunlight.

"Here goes nothing," he mumbled, running to her. "Move, Claire. It's close enough."

"No it's not," Claire argued. "Find Sheva; I'll lure it all the way here."

"Sis…" Claire gently squeezed his forearm.

"I can take care of myself, remember?" He stared at her a second longer before giving her the most fleeting of hugs.

"I always forget." He released her and disappeared while Claire was left alone with the hulking frame of an infected body. She waited until it was close enough to bend over and swipe her off the ground, and that's when she played her part.

"Now!" she yelled, and immediately the barrels exploded, spraying fire across the sky and ground. The spilled oil flared to life with flames, fanning across the ground in hellish rivers and engulfing the monster. It made a loud slurping sound and backed away, but its body was already burning. Falling to the ground, the pain consuming the creature prevented retaliation against its attackers, and pieces of its body began disconnecting. Worm-like hunks of flesh scattered in every direction, but Sheva and Chris shot them one by one as they attempted to escape the blaze.

"Eat that, ugly!" Chris spat, pocketing his gun as the flames began to dwindle. When he was certain that their enemy was dead, he went for Claire, who was sitting on an upturned box several feet away. Her eyes were fixed on the smoldering, black blob of infested flesh that smoked at the center of the street. "I have no idea how you got out of there in time," Chris marveled. Claire sheepishly smiled at him.

"I'm just glad that you're both okay," she said.

"Yeah, well now you're going to tell me exactly what you were thinking chasing me to Africa." Sheva stood behind him, momentarily forgotten by the siblings.

"I had to come. You know that he's here, and that he's planning something. I decided that I couldn't wait around to see if the world would be saved in time. And he's planning something big, Chris—really, freaking big."

"How do you know that?" he asked. "And you were the one that told the butcher about the Umbrella base, weren't you?"

"I've been trying to help, but I knew that you wouldn't want me here, so I stayed out of sight; and…" she swallowed, "You know there's only one way that I'd know about Wesker's involvement." Chris rubbed a hand across his forehead and stared at his feet, thinking. "I won't lie to you, Chris. I've been in contact with him since I came home, but not as an ally."

"Then as what?" he asked with a frown. Claire sadly smiled.

"This isn't the time," she said. She wanted to tell him more, but she didn't think the timing appropriate, and she'd already exhausted most of her courage by telling him that she'd been in contact with Wesker. She deserved a break after taking a risk like that. "Let's focus on crushing his project. I promise that I'll tell you everything later, okay? And please don't be angry with me." Chris gave her a soft smile, letting her know that he was displeased but trying to be rational.

"You know that I can't stay angry with you forever," he honestly stated. "I'm more worried than angry…" _Until he finds out about Jill_, Claire mentally dreaded. He was already furious with Wesker, and once he learned about his love's fate, hell was going to break loose. Of course, Chris had mellowed some since Raccoon City. He focused more on duty and family than revenge, but that wouldn't prevent him from going after Wesker's head. He'd never recovered from being betrayed by the man whom he'd idolized. It remained a very sore subject, even as he'd grown calmer in accepting a job at BSAA. He fought to protect, not kill or satisfy himself. Given time, Claire knew that he'd wash his hands of their dealings with Wesker.

"Watch out!" Sheva hollered, ending the brief reunion. A cloaked figure had dashed out of a building, and her arms wrapped securely around Claire. Taken off guard, the Redfield didn't immediately begin fighting. Her eyes had even returned to blue since battle, and just as instincts kicked in, a jeep hurtled around the corner, Irving at the wheel. He smiled wickedly as Jill threw Claire into the back seat and struggled to restrain her.

"Claire!" Chris yelled, firing at the vehicle as it sped away. "Shit!" The enemy was quickly going out of range. "CLAIRE!" He watched as his sister's head jerked out of the window before being yanked back inside. Jill was successfully sedating her, and then the threesome was gone. "We have to find them, Sheva," Chris was saying. "That's my sister."

"I know," Sheva said. "What is she? And who was she talking about?"

"Albert Wesker," Chris hissed. "And she's like him, but only physically. They're both different from us, but I don't think anyone really knows what to call them. I'll tell you about it later. Let's find the car and track them down."

"We have to get that hard drive to HQ." Chris wasn't listening. If Irving had his sister, was she being taken to Wesker? Damn that man. Claire had already confessed that there was something going on between them, and he didn't want that freak anywhere near her. Frustration threatened to engulf Chris as he felt his sister being ripped away from him both literally and figuratively. How had Wesker survived the fall? He didn't know, but when they next met, he was going to make sure that the tyrant never harmed anyone again—not Jill, not the world, not Claire.

***********

"Make sure she's not dead," Irving said. They had returned to their base, and Claire was laid out on a table. Jill stood quietly while Irving ran a hand over Claire's face. Her peaceful features belied the dangerous situation surrounding her, and every so often her face would scrunch as if pained.

"She's stable," Jill said. Irving didn't buy it since the front of Claire's white shirt had blood on it. He pulled the fabric away, still contemplating why Wesker had demanded that no harm come to the woman. It didn't make sense, but the short phone call that he'd just finished left no room for argument. If Wesker wanted the woman, he was going to get her.

"She's already healed," Irving noted, staring at her exposed stomach. "And has a bun in the oven." Claire's stomach bulged conspicuously, and Irving poked the bump before pulling her shirt back down. "What does Wesker want with a pregnant woman?" Jill said nothing. "You are no help," Irving complained.

"I will take her to Wesker," she finally spoke. "You are not to come. It's your job to finish off the BSAA members. Kill them so they cannot interfere." Irving cocked his giddy smile.

"I take it that I can use whatever means necessary?" She curtly nodded. "Oh goody!" Claire groaned as she began to wake, and Irving was surprised when Jill responded by stepping forward and brushing a stray hair from the woman's troubled face. Claire's eyes soon fluttered open, and she instinctively ran a hand over her stomach to make sure that everything was okay. It felt like the bump had gotten a bit larger, and as she glanced down, she realized that it had.

"Food please," she requested. Jill turned to obey but stopped when Irving remained studying Claire's prostrate form.

"How do you know Wesker?" he asked her.

"None of your business," she sharply replied. Irving frowned.

"Why does everyone freaking ignore me?" he huffed. "Alright, fine. Have it your way, but I suggest you watch your manners around the master." Claire wasn't listening as he left. She was thinking of escape, but that could wait until after she ate. Now that she knew for a fact that Jill was extremely powerful, she couldn't count on being able to simply run off again. Jill was almost as fast as she was, and now that she'd escaped once, she'd be under closer supervision. Caution was the order of the day.

"Are we leaving soon?" Claire asked when she sensed that Jill had returned.

"One hour." That didn't give Claire much time. She ate and then sat up, feeling much better. If she only had an hour, she wasn't going to waste time.

"I want to ask something of you, Jill," she said, standing. "I don't know if there's anything left of you, but please don't tell Wesker that I'm pregnant. I'd…I'd rather tell him myself. I don't want him to find out from someone else. Can you do that for me?" The figure didn't respond, and Claire shook her head. "What was I thinking? But it was worth a try." She ran hand through her hair.

"I…" Jill began, head hanging forward, and her hands painfully knotting into fists. Claire watched in fascination as the woman seemed to sway, her nails biting into her palms with such force that blood trickled from them.

"Jill?" Claire asked, concerned despite Jill's previous actions.

"You can tell him," she finally gasped, shuddering. "Is it…?"

"It's his." Claire sounded more sorrowful than she had intended. For the first time, she had hope that Jill was buried somewhere beneath that cold exterior, yet here Claire was, telling her that she was pregnant by the man who was responsible for her condition. "I know it's probably not what you want to hear, but there's nothing I can do about it. I didn't know that he'd done this to you." She almost reached out to hug Jill, but their warm moment evaporated within seconds.

"We are leaving," Jill announced, tone again flat, and body stiff at attention. Claire sighed. Her friend had slipped beneath the surface again.

"I must apologize, Jill," Claire regretfully said, "But I'm not going anywhere with you." She lashed out, hitting Jill directly in the side of the head and sending her crashing to the ground. Claire checked to make sure that Jill was still breathing and stable, and then pulled her into the corner. The same sedatives used to sedate her were sitting on the table, and she injected one into Jill. That would keep her out for several hours, and in the meantime, Claire was going to find out what Irving was planning. Maybe he would tell her how to find Wesker without being handed over to him. A little intimidation might be in order.


	12. Chapter 12: Meaning

Document manager wasn't working yesterday, but here is an update (finally). Also, I am amazed by how many people are sending me messages concerning the ending. You're all really worried that I'm going to go with the game's original ending, aren't you? Lol. I understand the concern, but you'll just have to wait and see…

Enjoy the chapter. I've actually had a lot of fun using Irving in this story.

________________________

Chapter 12: Meaning

Irving sat in the chair into which Claire had roughly shoved him. Now her hands rested on either armrest, her face lowered to stare directly into his. The close, looming proximity that she was using to intimidate him was a trick that she'd learned from Wesker. The tyrant had often used such a tactic to his advantage when she was mouthing off to him during captivity, and now she almost smiled at the humor of this situation, but not quite. All she needed were the sunglasses, and then she'd really feel like Wesker.

"Now let's play nice," Irving nervously cautioned. His fingers were quite jittery as he tugged his white coat into a more comfortable position. Claire gave him her best cold stare.

"I don't do nice very well," she stated, lying through her teeth. Judging by his weak, forced smile, it was convincing enough. "Especially toward someone who wanted to feed me to the locals."

"Nothing personal," Irving explained. "Just doing my job, you know. Speaking of which, the boss won't be too happy if I tell you how to find him. Do you have any idea what he's capable of? His hooded pet will split me in two for talking."

"That's too bad," Claire shrugged. "But Jill's unconscious. You can just tell her that I hacked into your computer for the data. She'll be as responsible as you for not stopping me." Claire didn't know why she was making this a bit easier on him. Mostly she wanted to punch him in the face, but the scientist looked so puny and fidgety, like a boy going on a first date. Everything about him was a bit odd, and he didn't seem particularly malicious like the woman she'd met at TriCell had. He simply didn't anger Claire like other enemies, and Wesker would probably dispose of him later anyway. She actually felt a pang of pity for the twisted man.

"So are you going to tell me where he is and what he's working on?" Claire reiterated. Irving tried to recover his dignity by folding his arms across his lap.

"The project is secret," he said. "And you'll know soon enough." He adopted a thrilled grin. "This project is going to be a real big surprise." Claire wrapped a hand around his throat, and Irving's eyes widened. "Hey now, no need for that!" he yelled. "I've been sworn to keep my lips sealed. No offense, but Wesker scares me a hell of a lot more than you!" Claire applied a little more pressure. "Come on! What are you going to do with his location anyway? He'll kill you. He'll kill any BSAA that you send! Please…" Claire released him and stepped back, staring at him with a distant expression.

"I'm not contacting BSAA," she said. Irving now looked plain confused.

"But aren't…?" His mouth loosened. "You're going alone? And people think that _I_ have problems. You don't understand how powerful he is. The virus—it's wonderful, a real breakthrough!" Claire's eyes softened and caught Irving off guard.

"No, you're the one that doesn't understand," she said. "He'll kill you once you're no longer useful. Why hurt so many people for him when you won't gain anything?" Irving stared at her a moment, seemingly lost for words.

"It's not about him," he assured. "It's about the project." Claire sighed, letting the tough girl image fall away. She couldn't believe this guy, but she'd never understood what drove so many scientists to do horrible things from the beginning.

"Here," she said, passing him his laptop. "Sign in and open the file that will show Wesker's location. He wants to see me anyway, remember?"

"No can do…" Irving's sentence trailed off as Claire spun around and slammed her fist into the wall, leaving a gigantic dent in the metal. "Look at that," Irving nervously smiled. "Okay, password it is." He typed, but his eyes kept dodging to Claire. "You're infected too, huh? Like him. That's interesting." _You don't know the half of it_, Claire thought. "Here." Irving passed her the computer, and Claire quickly jotted down the coordinates on the back of her hand.

"Where are the things that you took from me?" she asked.

"In the cabinet." Claire turned and found her handheld GPS on a cluttered shelf. It was in working order, and so she entered the coordinates. A blue blob appeared on the screen.

"The base is on a body of water?" she double-checked with Irving, who nodded.

"You're gonna get yourself killed," he repeated. "There are things living down there: old experiments." Claire tellingly cocked the rifle that she'd found in the lab and slung it over her back. "Oh," Irving smirked, "You're a toughie aren't you? Good luck." Claire walked over to him, and he sunk back into the chair while she reached out and slipped a hand into his lab coat. He managed to smile at her, and Claire scoffed.

"I'm taking these," and she held up the retrieved car keys.

"Yeah well, aren't you special…" Claire moved toward the door.

"Irving," she said, and the man cocked his head to the side in interest. "You really should consider getting out of here. Even if you turn yourself into BSAA, it won't be as bad as what might happen to you otherwise. Wesker might not even kill you, but still; I've noticed that people like you tend to get killed by their own creations." Irving stood and closed his computer, hand mindlessly tracing a circle on the lid.

"There isn't much of an option anymore," he softly said, sounding dejected for the first time that Claire could remember. "You don't walk away from these sorts of things."

"You should think about it."

"Why do you care, huh?" He sounded both surprised and suspicious.

"It's just how I am," Claire gently sighed. "If you want to save your ass," she slyly suggested, "You ought to tell Jill that I only stole the jeep and escaped. Wesker doesn't need to know that you gave me anything. You might buy yourself some time." She didn't need to give him the advice, but it would benefit both of them. Wesker wouldn't be expecting her arrival, and Irving wouldn't be punished. Claire sensed that the scientist would not end well, so perhaps some kindness was called for. She left him in the lab with an unconscious Jill, stole their jeep, and headed off into the horizon. The GPS said that it would be dark by the time that she reached the cave, and that was fine with her. It would give her time to plan.

*********

Someone was calling, but Wesker pointedly ignored the first few rings. In a rare event, he was taking some time to relax, and he didn't want to be bothered. He sat on the edge of his bed, arms resting on his legs, and jacket tossed over the back of a nearby chair. He did occasionally need mental rest, and so he'd been contemplating a quick nap, but his assistants were forever in need of something. At the last possible moment, he snatched up the cell phone. It would be Jill, and she never called unless it was important.

"Yes?" he sharply asked.

"She escaped." Wesker paused. So Claire had escaped. He'd thought that maybe she would allow herself to be brought to him, but he wasn't surprised by this turn of events either. He remembered perfectly how strong her fighting spirit was. She did not like to be forced to go anywhere on principle. She wasn't going to make this easy on him; she never had.

"When?" he demandingly asked.

"Two hours ago. She has the jeep. Destination is unknown."

"Fine. Stay with Irving and make sure that Chris and his friends are disposed of." He almost shut the phone, but curiosity got the better of him. "Does she know who you are?" he asked Jill.

Pause.

"Yes."

"And is our favorite Redfield truly unwell?"

"She appears generally healthy, but there are signs of sickness and pain."

"Very well," he dismissed Jill. "Get to work." He shut the phone and removed his sunglasses. The redness of his eyes gleamed in the dark, and their intensity matched his mental process. Claire's health was important to him, and if she remained on her own in an unstable state, he might be cheated of the claim that she'd willingly accepted from him. There was no one else who he'd trust at his side like her, and such was their bond that he'd never easily let her go. As far as he was concerned, she was his alone, and Chris was an idiot if he thought that Claire would be happy about bringing down her love. Of course, Chris probably didn't know that she was his. A cold smirk edged up his face, and he was tempted to chuckle. When Chris finally realized what his sister had been doing in her free time, he would be humiliated, perhaps even angry enough to help push Claire even further into Wesker's arms.

He knew Claire well enough to not be overly concerned about her escape. It was an undesired turn, but she would still eventually come to him. If he wanted to see her, she definitely wanted to see him. It was only a matter of time, and he wouldn't be impatient when there were other matters to deal with—Chris, for instance. Irving would probably get the BSAA agent killed, but if not, he would have the pleasure for himself.

Redfields: so similar yet so different. They were both tenacious and protective, but one hated and the other loved. Wesker lay down for that promised nap and closed his eyes. He could not stop thinking about Claire's impending arrival, for surely she was trying to go behind his back in order to undermine his plans. But first she had to discover what they were, and the answers were here, in the underground facility. _She'll come_. And he wanted her to be quick about it, for if she was in pain, she needed attention as soon as possible.

************

Claire had ditched the car in favor of walking. She didn't want to make excess noise or offer a large visual target in this strange land. Her boots softly tread over the riverbank, tall grass brushing her calves as she went. It was night now, and the sky was completely cloudless. She had hoped that the water would beautifully reflect the stars and moon, but its surface was muddy and thick—marsh grasses springing from the shallows, and the occasion ripple of some creature disturbing the murky haze. Claire had her eyes on that water lest something unpleasant emerge, for she doubted that her abilities would be of much use if she had to fight while swimming.

An insect bit her neck, and she vindictively slapped it. She did not like this place, especially given that it was near an Umbrella base. The soft calls of night animals and the hum of bugs would have been peaceful in another setting—one where she didn't have to constantly wonder what had just moved in the grass over there. She couldn't help but contemplate whether or not there were poisonous snakes. Of course, the poison wouldn't do any permanent damage to her body, but it was leftover human instinct to worry about these things.

She carefully stalked through the landscape for two hours before the terrain along the water began rising. In an uneven slope, a hill rose to overlook the water, and the higher it grew, the steeper it became. Claire noticed a gigantic, rocky outcropping ahead, and she tried to hurry toward it, but movement was becoming increasingly difficult as she continued to navigate the water's edge. She cursed more than once in the process. Her vision hadn't vastly improved with infection like Wesker's had, and so she accidentally kicked stones and stumbled. Her movements merely appeared smooth and controlled because her recovery time was fast.

_This isn't good._

Claire paused and frowned. Staying on the fringe of the water was becoming impossible. Her chances of finding decent footing had disappeared altogether since the steep side of the hill now represented a sheer, rock wall. The water gently lapped against a few boulders sitting near the base, and Claire jumped onto the closest one rather than try her hand at scaling a vertical surface in the dark. It was an impossibly far jump—easily several car lengths, yet Claire glided over it with ease. She landed and peered into the night. A large outcropping of rock branched out from the hill and into deeper water, and there was a gaping, black spot that she swore was a cave entrance.

_GPS says that I've reached the coordinates_, she realized. There was only one problem: she was going to have to get in the water. Her blue eyes shifted to the translucent surface, and she imagined sinking into mud up to her hips. And who knew what kind of aquatic life was living in that mud. She could get fairly close to the entrance by rock jumping. Then perhaps the water would be deep enough to swim through. It didn't particularly matter, because she was going to have to do whatever it took.

She stood and prepared for the next leap, but a strange sensation in her abdomen halted her. The sensation wasn't painful, but it wasn't comfortable either. She slipped a hand beneath her shirt and tank top and pressed into her bump. Something pressed back. Claire blinked in surprise and pressed again. It was faint, but something was applying pressure from inside in response to her touch. Claire sat down on the rock, the moonlight washing her features in pale blue, and continued touching her stomach in fascination.

She was going to have a baby. Claire's heart beat with renewed emotion, and for the first time she wondered if it would be a boy or a girl. Her eyes twinkled with delight. So this is what it was like to have a life inside of you. True, this baby was developing at an alarming rate, but it wasn't human, and Claire was okay with that. Being human was overrated anyway. The newfound gift growing inside of her trumped that. It was more than she would have prayed for, since she'd stopped dreaming of this due to her acceptance of probable infertility.

_You're going to be a mother, _her mind whispered promisingly. A tear slid down her face. She still remembered her former dreams, for they'd never truly left her; they merely floated beneath the surface, reemerging when she awoke with Wesker's arms around her. It wouldn't be a bed of roses though. This was going to be difficult since the current conflict hadn't been resolved, but she would never trade this for anything. She wished that she could tell Wesker right now. She wanted to show him that the baby was already moving and responding to her. She wanted him to _feel_ it.

_What if Wesker doesn't survive this_? The horrible thought struck her numb. A fatherless child, a lover lost. Her desire for the future hinged on him. First she'd fought with him, then herself, and now their circumstances, but throughout all of it, he'd become her driving force. She'd literally risked the most precious parts of her life in order to connect with him, and to let that slip away was unthinkable. She stood and gave her stomach a soft pat that contrasted with her determined features.

"It's okay," she told her child. "I've never given up before, and I won't now."


	13. Chapter 13: Where You Belong

Chapter 13: Where You Belong

Claire pulled herself out of the water and onto a rock ledge. Her clothing was soaked, and it wasn't likely to dry in a dank, dark cavern. She wrung out her shirt as best she could while surveying her surroundings. The cave was larger than she had anticipated, and adequate for boats to enter and dock at a small wooden walkway. A single lantern sat on a nearby table, but the dim light did little to illuminate the area. It hardly looked like an Umbrella base, but she wondered if this was perhaps the back door. Certainly the small passageway to her left was inadequate for moving supplies or specimens.

With the lantern in hand, Claire entered the rock crevice and began walking. She could see no further than several feet ahead of her, but given the restricted walking space, getting lost didn't seem likely. She simply kept moving forward while listening to the occasional drip of water from the hanging stalactites. Some were so long that they nearly touched her head, and coupled with the stalagmites, the cavern resembled a maw of uneven teeth. The place also appeared devoid of life, but a strange, shuffling noise to her left caused Claire to pause and crouch. Her vision was limited, and so she realized that she needed to rely on her nose in this situation. What the light wouldn't reveal, it would.

She crept forward until she entered another stretch of passageway. This one was wider, and as she neared the end, she realized that there were two pathways to choose between. Sniffing one, she smelled nothing but wet lichens and earth. From the other she detected oil and chemicals, and heard the light buzzing of electricity. She followed her instincts and put out the lantern. From here on, she placed a hand against the wall and followed the scents of modernity.

_This is more like it_, she thought. This cavern had a large, lighted station at the far end. It was attached to the wall and included a computer terminal and an elevator lift. She approached and tapped the computer screen.

_Password Required_.

_Damn it!_ She had no hope of randomly guessing a seven key password, and the elevator might not have had a sealed door, but a metal gate blocked access to it. Again, a shuffling noise distracted her, and she hurriedly spun. There was enough light that she could see most of the room, but dark corners remained hidden. More shuffling, and more staring, but all she saw were a few rocks sitting in the middle of the floor.

Breathing deeply, she realized that there was an off scent in the air, but whatever it was, it wasn't very potent. She looked back at the elevator, contemplating whether or not an alarm would sound if she ripped off the metal gate. Her decision was cut short when more shuffling, this time accompanied by light scratching, interrupted her thinking. _What the hell?_

There was nothing there, except the rocks. She even checked the ceiling, since lickers had long ago taught her to pay attention to that detail. _Damn creepy cave_, she cursed. One last scan and then she was going to force her way into the elevator.

Wait.

There were more rocks now. That didn't make sense, and was it her imagination, or had that one cluster gotten a lot closer? She uneasily picked up a pebble from beside her foot and threw it at one of the lumps. Almost immediately, the rock seemed to enlarge, pulling itself out of the ground, and thin, spindly legs began growing out of it. Claire thought that it resembled some type of giant spider, but she wasn't waiting around to find out. Given her belly, she was doing her best to avoid any further combat.

"Shit!" she cursed as her hands wrapped around the metal gate. The other 'rocks' were beginning to get up, and they were heading straight toward her. She glanced over her shoulder to see an army of black spiders swarming toward the terminal, and with a surge of panic, she yanked and tore the gate from the wall. She threw the metal at the approaching creatures and rushed onto the lift. They were getting too close for comfort as she felt the floor beneath her move, and she could now see the distinct fangs of her would-be attackers. She pressed the first button that she saw, and with a jerk, the lift began lowering.

"I hate bugs!" Claire shouted as several of the spiders managed to latch limbs onto the platform. She viciously punched and kicked the mutations off, and soon the lift sunk out of their sight. She was in a metal shaft, the spiders sealed above in the cavern, and the gears overhead loudly spinning. She checked to see what she had pushed, and it was a button for two floors down. She was going deeper into the ground, and from here on out there would be no easy escape.

_Beep_.

The elevator had stopped, and now she was faced with a gray hallway broken only by the occasional door or intersection. She had seen happier looking factories compared to this characterless place, but at least it wasn't glaring white in every which direction. She started walking without any idea as to where she was going. She did of course notice that there were security cameras, but this place seemed vacant. Perhaps no one was watching the cameras since visitors weren't expected.

She came to a door with a large glass window, and peering through it, she was amazed to see flowers. Flowers in an Umbrella lab? Claire opened the door and stepped inside. The bright lights overhead illuminated a floor of dirt that was heavily speckled with small, purple blossoms amid grass. She walked across the soft surface and knelt to pick one of the beautiful specimens. Five, triangular petals of brilliant, royal purple fanned out from a yellow core, and an intoxicating scent rose from its center. Claire ran a finger over the silky petals while the baby inside of her lightly pressed outward.

"It's okay," she assured. Her stomach wasn't that large—only noticeably swollen—but the strength of the baby amazed her. Then again, it was Wesker's kid. If it already had strength to push, she wondered what it would be like to carry in several weeks. _I'm not looking forward to that_, she thought. "Let's see what we can find out about this," she spoke to her stomach. Being pregnant made her feel less alone in this surprisingly stunning room, like a companion was with her.

There was a small stand overlooking the flourishing garden, and Claire mounted a flight of stairs to reach it. Collected flowers sat in thin containers, and some were in a liquid-filled tube connected to some sort of machine. She wished that she had more background in this sort of equipment, but she could at least handle the access frame. She sat down to work; annoyed to find that her hunger had returned, but there was nothing she could do about it for the time being. She pushed the pangs away by accessing a file on "Progenitor Flower", and the more she read, the more intrigued she became.

This is where Umbrella had started. She viewed the flowers with newfound distaste. They weren't as innocent as they first seemed, and apparently Spencer had used the flower's unique qualities to produce t-virus. Who would have thought? Everything started here, with pretty patches of flowers, and it might end here too.

Claire continued to search the computer, but everything else appeared to be technical data that she didn't understand. She contemplated stealing the hard drive to take with her and give to BSAA, but the idea quickly grew tainted. This place and its research were better off destroyed. There was no reason to pass the information onto someone else. It and these flowers would be buried with the last remnants of Umbrella's work like they deserved to be.

Claire would have left the room at that time, but her body sunk into deep fatigue. She patted her stomach in frustration and stood. She didn't have time to rest, and sleeping in an Umbrella base was the worst idea in the history of bad ideas. Yet her limbs were aching with demand, and she realized that she wouldn't be in a favorable position if attacked while so tired. Pregnancy wasn't the most convenient condition to be in; that was certain.

She was walking across the bed of flowers and found her eyes involuntarily drooping. _Not here_, she told herself, but her body wasn't listening. Her infected cells were working like mad to produce the child, and constructing a complex life at such a rapid pace took its toll. Taken with her reproductive system's difficulty in negotiating the virus's role in a human process, her body needed a break. The intense physical exertion that she'd been involved in since arriving didn't ease the process either.

Claire was lying in a grassy patch of flowers, a purple petal tickling her nose. She didn't care as she fell asleep. The ground was so soft, and even the opening of the nearby door didn't disturb her. She was aware of someone coming closer, and her first instinct was to jerk away, but the smell accompanying the person was soothing. Her muscles relaxed as her subconscious told her that she was safe. _Okay. Goodnight…_

***********

A black trench coat brushed flowers and grass as a dark figure carelessly crossed the ground. Wesker was back in full attire, sunglasses included, and his boots stopped beside the sleeping woman below him. He had been watching the security cameras at the cave's entrance for hours, both because he expected Claire's arrival after her break from Irving (she was smart enough to get information from that man) and there was little else to do at the time.

"Claire…" he said, thinking her quite angelic as she slept. She was lying on her side, red hair coming loose from her ponytail and cascading over the flowers in a brilliant clash of red, green, and purple. Her deep breathing and slightly parted lips particularly drew his attention. She did not seem to be in physical danger, yet the fact that she was sleeping on the progenitor flowers, in an Umbrella base of all places, was cause for concern. There was something wrong with his Redfield, but for now he had no inklings of the cause. Claire's secret was hidden beneath the loosely obscuring folds of her white over shirt and her position.

He crouched beside her and ran a hand through her hair. She responded by shifting closer to him. Wesker was content to stay there for a few minutes, watching her sleep on a bed of flowers, and touching her smooth features. But she was unwell, and that meant that she needed to be watched. Wesker took off his jacket and wrapped it around her, preventing discovery of her abdomen until a later time. He scooped her wrapped form off of the ground and carried her bridal style down the hallways, pleased despite his blank face. He took her straight to his room, where he deposited her on the bed. Holding her and having her here felt so natural.

She would be safe from prying eyes for the time being. Excella had no idea that they had a guest, and he decided to keep it that way until Claire was awake and he could question her condition. He tried to slip his arms out from under her now that she as on the mattress, but Claire didn't comply. Her fingers gently gripped his withdrawing arms, and Wesker allowed himself a smile while he decided to momentarily sit beside her.

"No more running," he told her. Claire's eyes lightly fluttered open, drowsiness clinging to the edges.

"Hmm? What did you say?" she murmured. "Wesker?"

"Dear heart," he fondly replied, a finger running across her lips. Claire sleepily smiled.

"Dear heart," she happily echoed. Wesker gently lifted her arm and held up a syringe. Claire's eyes nervously landed on it.

"Rest," he told her. "I'm making sure that you're stable." Claire nodded and closed her eyes. When Wesker was finished, he tucked her arm back under the jacket, and brushed hair from her face. She was beautiful, and she was here with him where she was supposed to be. He would let her sleep while he ran his tests, and then he had to see Excella for another injection. He stood and watched as Claire unconsciously pulled his jacket up around her neck. He hoped that she would be as compliant and pleased to see him when she was fully conscious.


	14. Chapter 14: Deciding to Stay

Chapter 14: Deciding to Stay

So this was the end. Somehow Irving hadn't quite pictured it like this. Then again, the redhead had forewarned him in a rare act of kindness, and he had partly suspected it himself. He lay on the ship, his bodily mutations painfully pulsating around him. He felt like he was being stretched, ripped, and burned. He couldn't get a good look at himself and he really didn't want to. He decided that he was just going to die without a fight. There wasn't much left anyway. Apparently his body wasn't meant for the new race. He'd failed the ultimate test, and he'd never see the project completed.

"Stop annoying me," he muttered through the pain when Chris and Sheva approached him. So they wanted to know what was coming? All right, he'd give them a hint, and maybe he'd tell them about the cave too. Then they'd have a chance at getting Excella. Damn that woman for so easily disposing of his contributions.

"Still pointing guns, huh?" he asked his killers. "I'm not getting up. Nope, not this time."

"Chris," Sheva said, "Let's go. We've got the location."

"Wait," Chris said. Standing over Irving, his pistol was still pointed at the man's barely recognizable face. "What did you do with my sister?" he demanded. Irving' smile widened.

"Sister? She's your sister?" he managed to gasp. The pain was becoming unbearable, but the recent string of coincidences still lent him some humor. "She escaped—to the cave. Wesker's really interested in her, and, ah, she seems rather interested in him, if you know what I mean."

"What?" Sheva asked, head turning toward Chris.

"And watch out for the spiders," Irving cautioned. He shouldn't be telling them that, or any of this really, but he wanted to. He was sick of taking orders and then being treated like shit. Giving these two a chance to deliver some payback was his only chance for retaliation at this point. And that woman, Claire, she'd been unexpectedly concerned. Since this was her brother, maybe he'd toss Chris a favor for his sister's acknowledgment of him as a worthwhile person.

"Why is he telling us this?" Sheva questioned Chris.

"Just repaying my boss," Irving laughed. Then, with a final shudder, he expired in a widening pool of his own blood.

"Chris, how does your sister know Wesker?" Sheva asked. Chris was standing at the railing, staring into the misty haze, head hanging. He had already told her about Jill and that Claire had become infected like Wesker, but he hadn't told her about the kidnappings or Claire's journey to find their enemy.

"I don't know exactly what she's doing," he confessed to Sheva. "They met long ago, and something happened. I'm not sure what, but she's always fought with us, not alone like this." He turned to find Sheva, ready to board the other boat. "We've got to find her," he insisted, "and Jill. Whatever Wesker's interest in Claire is, it can't be good."

"But why would she be interested in him? Irving was hinting at something," Sheva reasoned. "Do you trust your sister, Chris?" Chris paused and jumped onto the other boat. Sheva was close behind him.

"She'd never abandon our cause," he insisted. "I know she wouldn't."

"But something is going on."

"Yeah," Chris agreed. "And I know that I'm not going to like it."

***************

Claire woke up feeling like she'd had the best sleep of her life. Before she opened her eyes, she rolled onto her other side and inhaled around the collar of Wesker's jacket. She remembered sleeping on the flowers, and she remembered him carrying her here. At first she'd thought that she was dreaming, but now she knew that she wasn't. _And he isn't angry that your broke in_, she thought. No, on the contrary, he had seemed pleased. Of course, now that he knew she was here, an entire new set of problems arose.

This was his room. Claire looked around the sparse, gray room. There was a bed, a desk, a laptop, and a bathroom. It looked more like a prison cell than personal quarters, but he probably didn't care since his work was keeping him busy. Claire stood and set the coat on the desk as she moved toward the bathroom. Hopefully there was a mirror, because she wanted to check her pregnancy. Had Wesker already figured it out? She wondered where he was and what he was doing with her blood sample. She also wondered if she should feel guilty for momentarily forgetting what was at stake here in order to lose herself in longing for him.

The bathroom did have a long mirror, and an extra set of clothing was laid out on the sink. Claire smiled. He'd known that she'd go for a shower first thing, but his choice of clothing was a bit unfavorable. It was a slinky black dress that would fall to her knees, and the straps tied behind the neck for a halter-top. It would be snug so as to expose her attractive curves, and that made her nervous. The dress itself was beautiful, with a shimmering material lying over the black, but the baby bump would be extremely conspicuous. _You are planning to tell him anyway_, her mind pointed out. The dress it was.

She briefly examined her belly to find that it hadn't enlarged, and then she washed herself and slipped into the dress. Wesker had left matching heels, but there was no way that she was going to wander through a facility with those on, so she opted for bare feet. From that decision, she was faced with a more complex dilemma, for she had the urge to find Wesker, snoop for information, _and_ notify Chris of her discoveries. She wasn't in agreement with Wesker's goals, no matter how much she loved him, and as an expecting mother, the importance of protecting life seemed even greater to her now. She and Wesker had a lot to discuss.

_Sigh. Claire, what are you going to do now? And what about Jill? What about the danger he poses to the world? _

She wasn't sure what she was going to do. Coming here, to him, had seemed like the right choice, but she doubted whether Wesker would take any destruction of his project lightly. All or nothing was what they had agreed upon for this round, but that didn't mean that she'd find it easy to fight him. Being near him, wanting him, and carrying his child burdened the ease with which she'd thwarted his plans from a distance. Yes, being close to him was different; for she wouldn't break his trust or she might lose everything they'd gained. Nor would he let her interfere, although he would keep her with him, and overpowering his will would not be a walk in the park. In fact, she was sure that he'd never willingly abandon his power-hungry plans, which meant that he'd either go down with the project or succeed.

It seemed to her that at this point her only hope was to aid Chris and Sheva while not directly combating Wesker. She simply wanted to stay close now, to see the end and be there at his side if events began going against him. She wasn't sure if she was strong enough to salvage him from the wreckage of ambition, but she didn't have a choice. Letting events play out without her intervention was impossible, and the thought of him winning was as terrifying as the thought of him dying. This was the path that came with loving him, and she honestly didn't think that she could leave or attack him now if she wanted to.

"What a mess," she said. She just wanted to be here, with him. Perhaps she could talk to him about this. She brushed her wet hair back into a bun, and then exited the room without a glance at his laptop. Why bother? The idea of snooping suddenly seemed ridiculous. She would ask Wesker about his work, and she had a feeling that he'd explain things to her if he were as close to launching his plan as he seemed. One thing was certain, and he'd said it himself: no more running. She wasn't leaving. If she'd have to leave in order to contact Chris with her information, she wasn't going to do it. Chris would find this place eventually given his determination, and in the meantime she decided that her place was here. She would play a more important role by staying, and maybe she could figure out how to help Jill.

"Where do you think he is?" she asked her stomach. As if in response, the baby kicked, and Claire beamed. "I guess we should tell him about you." But she was still a bit nervous given Wesker's previous dismissal of procreating. She followed his scent down the halls, and the longer she walked, the more she realized the enormous size of the underground base. Some serious money had been invested in its construction, and she noted that TriCell as well as Umbrella logos dotted equipment.

Her bare feet moved soundlessly over the floor, and even at her brisk pace, she felt like she wasn't getting anywhere. It appeared that she was following an old scent trail after forty minutes without any sign of Wesker, but then she came upon a strange lab with a series of small specimen tubes clustered at its center. A circular terminal encased the tubes, and she walked closer out of curiosity. Wesker's scent was everywhere, but he was nowhere in sight.

She clicked the computer.

_Project terminated. _

Since no one was around, prying couldn't be helped, and Claire quickly opened the file. There was a numbered list of specimens, and every last one of them was marked as deceased. She also noticed that the donor's name was 'Claire Redfield', and she wondered how she could be responsible for the specimens. No other information was available, as it had been deleted, and she was about to continue her search for Wesker when a strange rush of separating air sounded behind her.

She nearly jumped when Wesker's dark image appeared in the reflection of one of the test tubes. He was standing directly behind her, but how had he done that? She hadn't sensed him, and her confusion must have shown, for he smirked in pleasure.

"I see that you're awake and up to old habits," he drawled, stepping closer. His breath was hot against the nape of her neck, and one of his hands lifted to rest on her hip. "The dress suits you."

"How did you do that?" Claire asked, and he chuckled into her hair.

"A new trick," he told her. "Although it has its price." Claire continued to watch their reflection as his hand slid further over her hip. Another inch and he was going to find out what was wrong with her, but his hand stopped short. "Your blood sample showed no signs of instability, but certain chemicals had spiked levels. Were you exposed to a new virus or parasite?"

"Yes, but it wasn't contact that would lead to infection," Claire answered. Wesker pulled her against his chest, both of his hands now on her hips. "There's no reason to be worried," she added, her heart rate increasing. Wesker noticed and brought his mouth near her ear.

"You shouldn't need sleep or experience internal pain," he said. "I'm going to run more tests." One of his hands removed itself from her hip to pull a syringe from his jacket, and Claire stiffened. "You're being overly nervous, dear heart."

"It's not that," she said, swallowing. "There's no need for more tests. I know what's affecting me." Wesker paused, and Claire placed her hands overtop his. Slowly, she pulled them forward, guiding the leather gloves over her hips, to the slope of her stomach, and over her swollen body. For a second, Wesker didn't respond, but then his hands were exploring on their own. His movements were gently, but firm, and they went everywhere, examining the discovery with interest. It was so relaxing and reassuring to have his hands there, caressing what they'd created.

"Who's the father?" Wesker asked, voice cautious and intrigued.

"I can't believe that you just asked me that," Claire replied, also soft spoken. Her eyes were fixed on his roaming hands, and she delighted in the feel of them. Wesker didn't say anything as he turned her around so that she was facing him. His face was neutral, but Claire knew better than to think that meant he wasn't feeling anything. He was obviously fixated on her baby bump.

"Here," Claire offered, and she took his hands. She removed his gloves and hiked up the front of her dress. She then placed Wesker's hands directly on her stomach, and then she pressed them against the bump. The baby kicked in response, and soon she felt the small life inside pressing against her excitedly and in numerous locations, but mostly around Wesker's palms. "He's very responsive," Claire said. "I mean, I don't actually know the gender, but I'm guessing that it's a boy. I've always wanted a boy and a girl—kind of like Chris and me."

"Have you had any difficulties?" Wesker asked, sounding very clinical, but Claire had expected that. He wasn't the type to send out baby announcements or something celebratory like that; he was going to study the child's development instead, since it was the first of its kind.

"I get tired and hungry," Claire told him. "Sometimes it hurts, but it's not bad." Wesker lifted one of his hands and slipped it behind her neck while the other stayed on her stomach, the folds of Claire's dress hanging around his wrist. He was close, their fronts touching as he looked down at her. "I'm not letting you stick it in a lab," Claire firmly declared, eyes hard steel. "And there aren't going to be any weird tests." Wesker chuckled in response.

"I expected as much, but if the pregnancy becomes unstable or difficult, I'll do what has to be done." His face had grown harder as he spoke.

"For me or the child?" Claire asked, one of her hands protectively cradling the baby's home.

"Both," Wesker replied. Claire felt relief as she leaned her head against Wesker's chest. "Dear heart, your fears are misplaced. I'd never hurt the child." Claire nodded and good-naturedly muttered something about gouging his eyes out if he tried anything on the kid.

"You said that you didn't want children," she wondered aloud. "What changed your mind?"

"The child is proof that the infected can reproduce." He felt Claire frown and knew that she didn't like his answer. "But this is also important to you, and I told you that if you came with me, you'd be in a safe position to have a baby," he added. "Consider it a gift for the life that you lost."

"That I lost because of you," Claire accused without malice.

"Because of me," Wesker smirked. Claire wrapped her arms around his neck and relaxed, even as the significance of the specimens dawned on her.

"You were trying to get me pregnant," she realized with a frown. Wesker didn't respond. "You wanted to know if we could reproduce…Albert, there aren't any of our babies floating in test tubes somewhere, are there?" Now she sounded a bit aggressive, and Wesker smiled at her motherly nature. "I won't let…"

"They were lost," he interrupted her. "I falsely concluded that reproduction between us was impossible without lab monitoring."

"But why bother?" Her tone told him how much she dreaded his coming response, so Wesker simply pulled her closer and gave a vague answer.

"There is going to be a new world order," he told her, "And reproductive abilities will be necessary." The words made Claire's blood run cold, but then Wesker's hand was gently rubbing her stomach, telling her that it was okay. It was an intentionally calmly strategy on his part, but Claire didn't particularly mind. He was being much more supportive of this than she'd imagined.

"The child won't be human," she mused.

"Does that bother you?"

"No," she said. "I'm happy that this is happening, and I'm glad that it's your child, but the baby will be endangered if he's discovered."

"You'll both be protected as long as you stay."

"I'm not going anywhere anymore."

"No, you're not," he agreed with satisfaction. Just then the door opened, and Claire and Wesker both turned to find Excella standing in the doorway. She paused, stunned by the position in which she found Wesker. He had his hand up someone's dress? And he was holding that same person? And she was holding him? Here she'd come to the conclusion that Wesker completely lacked a libido. Wonders never ceased.

Claire was equally stunned by Excella. It was that slutty woman from TriCell. Damn, but Claire still had a few words that she'd like to share with that woman. What was she doing here?

"You!" Excella accusingly exclaimed as she realized whose dress Wesker had lifted. Her eyes blazed with indignant anger.

"I see that you two have already met," Wesker smirked.


	15. Chapter 15: Personal Time

Chapter 15: Introductions and Personal Time

Claire stared at Excella. Excella stared at Claire. Wesker kept an eye on both of them while inwardly amused. If Excella recognized Claire, then that meant that Claire was most likely the spy who'd given her a hard time. Yes, it made perfect sense now. Claire _would_ have a natural distaste for a conniving, body-parading woman like Excella, and Excella would in turn despise Claire for making a mockery of her. He didn't care what their personal problems with each other were, because they didn't need to work together. In fact, he preferred that they not interact beyond necessity, for he didn't need distractions, and these two would undoubtedly cause them.

"Who is your guest?" Excella asked. "I was unaware that this base was open to the public." Truth be told, it stung that he'd brought another people onboard the project when it was so close to completion through their own labor. Claire went to answer her, but Wesker was quicker. He'd already lowered her dress and his hands from her body, standing as impassive as ever.

"Miss Redfield will be staying with us for an extended period of time," he stated. "And she is none of your concern. Dear heart, meet Excella Gionne." Excella stared down her upturned nose at the Redfield, her hands resting on her hips.

"As you say," she agreed. "Although you might wish to know that she broke into TriCell some time ago, and Irving said that she's with BSAA."

"Is that so? It would be most disappointing." Wesker tilted his face toward Claire. "Are you with BSAA, dear heart?" His voice was baiting, like he was testing her in some unspoken way. Claire caught a faint, red hue glowing behind his glasses as she stared at him, considering her reply. For a moment, Excella almost seemed nonexistent. Wesker was demanding something of Claire. She could feel it—feel him asking her where she would declare her loyalty before his colleague.

"I'm not with BSAA," Claire gently spoke. "I work solo and only for the people that I care about—not some organization or government." Wesker's face didn't change, but Claire did not sense disapproval. He simply turned back to Excella.

"Do you think that I blindly allowed her here, Excella?" Excella uncrossed her arms, still looking confidant despite the implicit danger of questioning Wesker. She had only done so on rare occasions.

"Not at all, Albert," she casually dismissed. "I was merely curious as to why she was brought here. She will be under TriCell jurisdiction, and that very much concerns me." A thin, satisfied smile crept up her face. "Unless this is another one of Chris's friends, hmmm? Time for another slave to be made." Claire bristled at the reference to Jill.

"Funny, you look like the one ready for shackles and a…_certain_ type of market," she offhandedly commented. Excella glared, but she did not offer resistance, for Wesker cut in. He did not have time to listen to them verbally spat, even if it was amusing on some level.

"You came here for a purpose, Miss Gionne," he dispassionately emphasized. "What did you wish to tell me?"

"Irving is dead, and he failed to kill Chris. We do not know where they currently are, but he might have told them something."

"Poor guy," Claire softly said, so softly that only Wesker heard. He glanced at her morose features, so honest and emotive in such an environment. "I tried to tell him." Her reservoir of compassion never ceased to amaze him.

"Shall I continue with the work we discussed?" Excella asked, eyes still watching Claire, and noting her pregnancy. What the hell did Wesker want to keep this woman around for? There was no way that she bested Excella in either looks or brains. What could she bring to the table of this project? As if sensing her thoughts, Wesker intercepted her while pulling his gloves back on.

"Finish the case," he told her. "You have your tasks, just as Irving had his."

"I am not Irving," Excella sneered, and she managed to pull off elegance and beauty even while doing that. "I won't fail. In fact, I've already succeeded. You will have your case in a matter of hours. We wouldn't want you to destroy yourself."

"Good," Wesker curtly snipped, too aware of Claire's questioning expression. "Just remember that interference with my schedule will not be tolerated on any level." Excella and Claire locked eyes, both understanding the message, even though it was aimed at the former. What passed between crisp blue and brown could only be described as animosity from past transgressions now worsened by rivalry. Claire didn't particularly feel threatened, but Excella burned with annoyance that Claire had looked like she'd been succeeding where the Italian woman had failed. Excella was not accustomed to being passed over for someone else, and especially not by someone who had not dedicated herself to aiding Wesker's work. Claire hadn't proven herself like Excella felt she had.

"And am I to understand that your guest will be working with us?"

"Not with TriCell," Claire answered for herself, and Wesker felt the energy snap between the women. "I'm simply staying here."

"I see." Pause. "I will see you shortly, Albert," she continued. "I'll be waiting with your injection." She left without further comment, knowing that what Wesker did was his own concern; although it irked her that he kept his own agenda, because it ruined her desired image of them as equal partners. They were equals in this scheme, or so she thought. He needed her for the research and work, and she had needed him for the tools to rise to the top of her company; however she might want to look at it, she had to admit that challenging Wesker's decisions was jumping into a fire. If he said he wouldn't tolerate her involvement with Miss Redfield, he meant it. Her heels clicked across the metal floor in offense, and the two nonhumans could hear the sound long after she had departed.

Claire was aware of Excella's leave, but she'd already mentally pushed the woman aside. She was far more concerned with what Excella had said about Wesker.

"What does she mean, injections?" she asked.

"The virus that I originally harvested from you has not responded to my system as it has to yours," he said. The two were alone again, and Claire stepped closer to Wesker to remove his sunglasses. This time he allowed it, and she slipped the glasses into his jacket. He watched her with a mix of displeasure, for he did not appreciate appearing weak. He didn't want anyone to know that his body was unstable, although he supposed that telling Claire was acceptable. Still…

"You're not dying are you? Miss Gionne said something about destruction," Claire said, and her voice was laced with worry.

"No, dear heart," Wesker answered, resting a hand along her face. She was always so concerned for his safety. "I merely require monitoring." Claire didn't look like that assured her, and Wesker stepped closer so that he was looking down at her. "You needlessly worry about my safety," he told her.

"Its part of caring," Claire explained. Wesker vaguely smiled. "So what is the injection for?" she insisted. Should he tell her? She wasn't exactly on his side, even if she was here, and any information might end up in Chris's hands. He knew that she wouldn't do so out of desire for his destruction, but she might do so if she believed that it was for the best. Then again, how could Chris use this information against him? He decided that it didn't matter if her brother knew or not.

"The viral combination is unstable," he explained. "The injections balance my system." Claire looked even more worried and sighed.

"If I were human, I'd already have wrinkles from dealing with you," she said. "Is it a permanent condition?"

"A solution will be found," was his ever-confident response. Wesker pulled her closer, and she responded by leaning against his chest. He loved when she melted in his arms, melding to his body and contentedly allowing him to do whatever he wished. Moments like this were the absolute evidence that she was unconditionally his, and he could feel the rise of her stomach pressing against him, and a few soft kicks from the child. In a matter of time, he would succeed in his plans, and this child would be the first of the improved race. It would be the ultimate herald of a new order.

"Is Excella your partner?" was Claire's next question, and Wesker chuckled at the disguised venom in her voice.

"You don't approve?" he drawled.

"I was just wondering," she defended.

"She works with me," he said. "But she is not my partner anymore than Irving was. That position has been reserved for someone else," he trailed a hand down her side. "But you have made it clear that I will have to wait until a winner has been decided for you to accept. Miss Gionne likes to think that the offer is for her, but her ambitions will soon be cut short." Claire frowned and almost spoke when Wesker put on his blank face. "You don't like her, but you still don't want me to dispose of her. I did choose 'dear heart' for a reason."

"Yes you did…Matthew's says hello, by the way," Claire replied. "I was supposed to tell you after his birthday party."

"Hmmm." That old man would never stop extending pleasantries, even though he knew that the bridge between them had been burnt to the ground. "I must be going, Claire." He disengaged their bodies and replaced his sunglasses. "I have a meeting to attend."

"The injection?" Claire asked.

"I'll return shortly. Don't wander far."

"But you _are_ accepting that I will wander," Claire smiled.

"When haven't you? But you won't find anything," and he was smirking as he saw the light of defiance flare in her eyes. "On second thought, perhaps I should leave you in a more amiable state."

"If you're planning to sedate…" Claire never got to finish her statement, for Wesker had wrapped his arms around her, and then they were moving at an incredible pace, even for her. She had never managed to move so rapidly, and there were times that she didn't know whether they were running or teleporting, as crazy as the idea sounded. She blinked, and her back was on a mattress.

***********

He knew that if he was patient and remained for a while, Claire would choose to fall asleep in his arms. She liked napping after sex, and with the pregnancy, her body wanted the rest anyway. It was only a matter of time, and then he could leave for a while without her snooping behind his back. She was, after all, a natural born meddler when it came to all things viral. Wesker preferred that she stay in his room, for in due time he'd show her exactly what he had planned. They were two of a kind, and Claire would be his second in the new world, or at least above any others regarding access to him, and so he wanted her to see what would come. Knowing his story from the start, she could appreciate how far his research and power had advanced as Excella could not. She would hate it, even fear it, but it was too late to stop him. Even if Chris ran in here with a gun, what was he going to do? Nothing.

He felt assured in his victory as Claire lay in his arms. She tended to favor pressing her back against his front with his arms around her, and that's how he held her now. One of his hands rested on her stomach, and Claire softly pressed against him in approval. She hadn't changed a bit since the day that he'd first kidnapped her for stealing his samples, and he doubted that she'd changed after Raccoon City or Rockfort either. She was resilient, brave, protective, caring, compassionate, beautiful…what had changed was where he stood in her estimation. That was the only major alteration, and that single factor had in turn flipped their relationship.

Wesker was not a man who had ever needed anyone, and he would never need Claire, but he wanted her, and he wondered what word described what they shared. Her reaction toward Excella was clear enough, for there'd been a hint of jealousy. Of course, he'd known all along that Claire viewed relationships as exclusive, but the incident with Excella had exposed the extent of what she felt was her claim to Wesker. She wanted him as hers alone, much as he wanted her. So they were exclusive as a couple, but no official words had been exchanged, and they didn't need to be. Wesker saw marriage as an inconvenience and formal triviality. They understood the unspoken terms of their connection without pointless legal bindings, and so neither of them saw the need to commit on paper. Soon formalities wouldn't be worth a damn anyway, but was Wesker committed?

Not in the traditional sense, he knew. Claire was his, and he would protect her, although she could often handle herself, so he need not often concern himself. And he was fond of her in a way that meant her presence was acceptable even when unnecessary. Hell, sometimes he sought out her presence for no particular reason, and he enjoyed her company. If he was honest with himself, he liked her more than anyone he could remember meeting. Plus he'd already decided that she was unique and worth his attention, and he wouldn't let the investment that he had in her slip away, especially when her role was about to further develop. So yes, he was committed on a level that was both personal and impersonal, and now there was the child to consider.

He was not fatherly. No one who'd ever met him would accuse him of that, but he could still be a strong, male figure, even if distant; and he would be somewhat distant, for he planned to mostly leave the child rearing to Claire. He would be busy rebuilding the world, and in the meantime she would keep the child from turning into some weak-willed specimen through her attitude and nerve. She would also protect the child from being used by any remaining opponents, but these thoughts were taken as givens and neglected for thought on some future date. If the fetus was well, there was nothing to concern himself with during the pregnancy.

His hand traveled over Claire's stomach yet again, and he recalled his surprise when he'd learned of her condition. The reproduction project was terminated, and so he'd been busy mentally trying to solve the problem. Then Claire showed up pregnant, and for a fleeting moment he'd wondered if she'd been with someone else. It seemed unlikely, but they'd never actually talked of being exclusive, and he was the enemy. Perhaps she had briefly sought comfort from someone else, and the possibility had crossed his mind given that he'd concluded his unstable virus had negated the chance of pregnancy. What had surprised him was that he didn't like the idea of Claire whispering someone else's name. He wouldn't say that it bothered him, but he had assumed that Claire had dedicated her body to him, and he didn't share well.

"Albert?" Claire called.

"Yes, dear heart?"

"I don't know what you did, but…is Jill gone? You must know that she was close to me, and I can't stand seeing her like that." The guilt in her voice warned Wesker to handle this topic carefully.

"Would you prefer that I killed her?"

"If she'll be stuck like that forever, maybe. I know that she would."

"She was an enemy, Claire. I'm not known for playing nice." Claire shifted uncomfortably.

"What did you do to her?" now there was a hint of anger. It reminded both of them that they were not on the same side yet.

"Dear heart," and Wesker's voice dropped to a threatening tone. "Don't ask me questions that you don't want the answers to." Claire inhaled, and he buried his face in her neck. "Rest. There are things that you can't change. You're not responsible."

"If you win, will you fix her? There will be no reason to enslave her by that point," Claire requested.

"Perhaps. Ask me later." He smirked as he felt her forcing herself back into relaxation. "And there is no 'if', Claire. I will win."

"Nothing's certain. We might topple you yet," Claire declared.

"You can try," Wesker mocked. "Is that what you're doing here?"

"Yes and no," she admitted. "I'm holding on." She closed her eyes and drifted away under her body's fatigue, and Wesker released her. It was good that she slept and had these brief, pleasant moments, for her heart was going to be torn before this fiasco was over. Her darling brother and his partner had finally arrived.


	16. Chapter 16: Worth

Here's the next chapter, and thank you all for sharing your thoughts. Of course, I still won't tell you how this will end, but I am paying attention to what you're saying. For instance, in regards to Sirene, I have plans for Excella, so rest assured that she won't just be tossed aside in the plot. I agree that she had more potential than Capcom used.

Also, people anxiously suggested that I go into Wesker's head concerning the pregnancy and so I put that part in earlier than I had anticipated since it seemed so important to readers as part of the plot. (His musings are usually the most time consuming thing to write. lol) So see, I acknowledge that sometimes readers notice things or want more explanation on something that I, as the writer, don't always think about needing more elaboration. Enjoy!

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Chapter 16: Worth

Claire did not sleep long, although she had planned to. It was the pain that woke her, and she groaned in protest as she sat up and rubbed her sore abdomen. _Cut it out_, she ordered the child before turning to look at the bed. She was not surprised to find Wesker missing; she had even anticipated it, but she still checked in the hope that he'd be there. The man lived to work on his projects, but at least he had stayed for a while, and now that he was gone, Claire had the opportune time to see what was hidden in this lab. She hadn't asked him about his project yet, but she'd been distracted by revealing her pregnancy. More than anything, she wanted to find a way to be useful in this struggle without actually fighting.

_I'm in no condition to fight_, she thought as she leaned against the wall in pain. Her skin felt tight as her abdomen began expanding yet again, and the intensity of the unnatural stretching forced her to remain still until the pain passed ten excruciating minutes later. When it had gone, she immediately went to the bathroom to notice that some more weight had been added. She was rounder, and to an extent that when Chris next saw her, especially in this dress, he would know she was expecting. She wasn't looking forward to that encounter, but she was glad that the dress was stretchy to accommodate her growing size. The bump wasn't large enough to hinder her at this point, so she could easily enter combat, but the risk of a hit to the gut was too severe. She wouldn't forgive herself for losing the baby due to rashness.

She reached for the door.

"Aghhhhh…" She knelt on the floor, hands clutching her stomach. _That's unusually painful_. The baby was widely kicking, but she rubbed her stomach until it calmed down. She herself was beginning to calm when a visitor arrived. The door in front of her flew open, and she expected to see Wesker, but instead found a long, purple robe. She looked up into the shadowy hood above her with a confused expression.

"Jill?"

"Are you hurt?" Claire hated how the question was devoid of real warmth or concern, but it wasn't Jill's fault. She rose to her feet and found her body stable and painless. _Thank goodness._

"I'm fine," she said. "Albert asked you to watch me, didn't he?" No response.

"I must report to Wesker. They have exited the caves." Claire reached out and grabbed Jill's forearm.

"Wait, please." Jill paused, and Claire gently pulled her into the room. "It's Chris isn't it?" Jill began shaking as she had before when trying to return to herself. She swayed and clutched her head with a groan. Then one of her hands grabbed her chest, clawing at the robe, as she began heaving. "How does he do this?" Claire asked. She hated seeing her friend in such torment, but at least Jill was fighting it. "You're still in there, Jill!" Claire's eyes began to water as she pushed Jill's hand back and threw off the hood. Instead of the blank face, Jill looked pained and sad. Her dark eyes glistened with unshed tears, and her mouth was pressed thin in concentration.

"I can't…not long…" she managed to gasp. "Claire…"

"It's okay," Claire assured with an equally sad expression. "I know it's not your fault, and maybe I can figure out how to help you. Just hold on as long as you can." Jill nodded and motioned to her chest. Claire responded by opening the front of the robe to see a black body suit. "I don't see anything…" Jill's eyes were shut, and tears were streaming down her cheeks. There wasn't much time left.

Claire's hands ran over the suit, searching for whatever Jill had hinted at with her wild motions, and finally she felt a bump beneath the clothing. Her hands quickly opened the top and probingly touched the object she found against Jill's body.

"Jill, what the hell is this?" A red device was attached to her chest, its smooth surface embedded in her skin. "So this is what's doing it…Will it kill you if I remove it?" She didn't want to damage Jill by yanking out the strange object, but Jill couldn't respond. Claire decided that she was going to have to take a risk for them both. "Albert's game with you is over." Her hand snapped forward to grab the device, but Jill unexpectedly intercepted her hand. _No_, Claire inwardly groaned. Jill's eyes were again dead, and she brutally shoved Claire's hand aside.

"I'm reporting to Wesker." The remote figure stood and rewrapped her cloak. Claire reached for her, but Jill raised a hand to threaten hitting her. "Stay here. He will come for you." Claire steeled her spine and managed a grim smile for them both.

"I know that you can hear me, Jill," she stated. "And now that I know what's doing this, I _am_ going to get it off when he's not looking." The figure didn't respond, but the words meant a lot. They meant more to Jill Valentine than anything Claire had ever said to her, and they echoed about her head with promise as she went to find Wesker and Excella.

************

She studied herself in the mirror, eyes dancing from her slender, elegant neck, down her ample chest, and to her smooth legs. She wasn't just beautiful; she was stunning, and she knew how to dress her assets. Excella wasn't a woman accustomed to denial given her appearance and brains. She'd charmed where substance wouldn't work, and lectured to impress where charm failed. Her entire life was predicated on getting what she wanted, when she wanted it, and by whatever means necessary—not that she wasn't a hard worker or otherwise talentless; she was gifted, but like Wesker, manipulation was her chief and favorite tactic.

So why couldn't she get what she wanted in this instance? There was nothing she lacked that she was aware of, and thanks to Wesker's las Plagas samples, she had risen to new heights within TriCell. She literally had millions at her fingertips, and ample influence to garner favors. She examined herself a moment longer and then left her private quarters, slamming the door behind her and making her way toward the observation room where Wesker could usually be found for injections.

That Redfield woman was nothing but some commoner compared to her. What would Wesker find attractive in that spy? Excella did not trust Claire for a second, and she was determined to keep the woman as far away from the project as possible. The uroboros were her creation—well, Wesker's creation also, but she had done much of the genetic research. This was to be _their_ victory, and she did not want to share it, especially with another female. If Wesker wasn't killing Claire, it meant that he was either using her or working with her, and he wouldn't keep a woman around just to stick a hand up her dress. That suggested that they had some kind of work relationship, and that would mean possible involvement with uroboros. How dare he!

Excella was beyond angry, and when she was angry, her level of haughtiness grew exponentially. Had Irving been around, she would have used some sharp words on the eccentric scientist, but the idiot had gotten himself killed. His genetics hadn't rejected the uroboros, but they hadn't been choice enough to prevent grotesque mutation and some mental distortion either. Excella had been wondering about her own genetics for some time. Would she be one of the chosen? Wesker had said that they'd change the world together, and she believed him. That meant that her body was probably compatible, or that she'd be modified and prepared to accept the uroboros. Someone like her wasn't meant to die as some horrendous monstrosity.

She entered a room and found Wesker sitting and waiting for her. His sleeve was already rolled up, and the scene made her feel more secure in her position. This inhuman man could be dismissive and harsh, but he'd promised her power, and he listened to her professional opinions with interest. She also had the formula to stabilize him, which mean that she was less disposable than Irving, and she wasn't complaining about having to make the syringes. After all, she favored knowing Wesker's weakness since the information might be useful one day. She wouldn't want Wesker to become _too_ powerful, even as she planned to stay as close to him as possible. No, he would not cast her aside as he had Irving, for she wouldn't fail. She'd already proven herself capable and dedicated to the cause, and she could see them ruling together.

"Albert," Excella greeted. His face turned toward her, and she once again considered how handsome he was. He was an ally that she'd like to slip into bed with, and they were very much alike. She would stop at nothing to advance herself, and he was the same. Together there would be nothing to hold them back except the bounds of science, and those were being transcended every day. She'd told him as much before, and he'd commented that they worked well together, and perhaps their partnership would continue after uroboros.

"You know, Albert," she soothingly breathed as she sat beside him. "Given time, I think I will solve this instability problem of yours." She opened a case and removed a syringe.

"I do not doubt your abilities," he replied, watching the needle slide into his arm. Excella's smoldering eyes trailed over his features in such a manner that he felt every bat of her eyelashes.

"How is our guest?" she asked. She would not simply let the matter drop despite Wesker's warning. She was a bold woman, and he knew it. Part of the reason that he'd chosen her, or so he said, was because she was daringly efficient and uninhibited when it came to the means of an end.

"Miss Redfield is occupied," he told her.

"She is an amusement for you, no?" And Excella stretched in a lazy manner that put her curves on display and made her look coolly controlled. Wesker didn't bother looking at her as he rose and walked forward. "Come now, Albert, don't tell me that you're in love with her. Surely she is only a distraction."

"I'm not distracted," he stated.

"Not now, but what about when Chris comes to save his sister?" Wesker now glanced at her with more interest. Excella loved grabbing his attention. "I spoke with your bird woman, and she might have mentioned the connection." She stood and strolled around Wesker. "She is not our ally. I should know; I had to treat the wounds that she gave Valentine. So tell me: why she is here. Huh?"

"She's an investment, Miss Gionne, and you would be wise not to write her off as a weakness." Excella stepped closer with one hand resting on her hip in challenge. She thought of herself as Wesker's equal, and she usually acted accordingly.

"So she is bait, or perhaps a way to humiliate your beloved Chris," she concluded. Suddenly she was more accepting of Claire's presence. She assumed that Wesker was planning to dispose of the woman once he used her; however there was also the matter of how mutually intimate they had looked when she'd walked in on them. "But she did not look like she objected to your touch. Whatever game you are playing, I hope it will not affect our plans." She subtly emphasized 'our'.

"There will be no delays," Wesker firmly stated. "Have the uroboros been transferred?"

"They are ready for deployment, and then the world is yours. Or should I say ours?" She seductively trailed a finger down his chest, her breasts grazing his arm. "I've proven myself, have I not? Our continued partnership would be very beneficial. A strong king needs an equally strong queen."

"In general, you may be right." His concession excited Excella, but she could not know that he was thinking of someone else when he spoke. She simply continued to trail a hand over his sculpted form, feeling the muscles beneath his tight, black shirt. He suddenly seized her hand and held it, turning it over in his own to stare at her smooth, unblemished skin. "You have been most useful, Excella."

"I can do more," she purred, leaning closer. Wesker released her hand and gripped her face—not gently, but not uncomfortably. "Am I not an attractive partner, Albert?" She could tell that he was examining her, even through the sunglasses. His face came closer to hers.

"In some ways, but tell me, fair lady, do you like power?"

"What a question," she smiled. "I am a woman who enjoys privilege and gaining privilege. That is why you chose me."

"Yes, for this," Wesker coldly stated without elaborating, nose nearly touching hers. "But not for everything." Would he kiss her? Excella hoped so, but his tone suggested otherwise. She felt her annoyance brewing anew due to his recent actions. He was a bastard for building her up one moment and offending her the next, but he had what it took to pull this project off, and that mattered more than anything else.

"I've proven myself worthy," she stressed, daring him to suggest otherwise.

"Perhaps. You. Have," and he pushed her away, the unmistakable disdain that he'd just used still evident in his partly curled lip. Excella fumed. Had he not told her yesterday that she was the perfect researcher and a beautiful woman? Now this Claire appeared and he became sharper—not that he had ever responded to her advances before, but he had been subtly encouraging, and he praised her work.

"The BSAA is here," a dull voice informed. Excella huffed as she noticed Jill's presence. The hooded woman stood stock still, waiting for Wesker's command.

"Your friend Chris is persistent," Excella told Wesker. "And how will you use his sister to get to him? You aren't concerned, are you, Albert?"

"We continue as planned. The uroboros are being loaded onto the plane as we speak. There will be no delays. Detain or eliminate them. I will be along shortly." Jill wordlessly left, and Excella grabbed her syringe case and followed suit. They would locate the intruders and finish them off. It was time for the BSAA to meet an advanced uroboros specimen.


	17. Chapter 17: Whispers of Possibilities

I'm alive! Just a little busy.

Chapter 17: Whispers of Possibilities

Claire hadn't stayed put after Jill's departure, but part of her wished that she had. It was strange to see Wesker touching someone else like that. His hand cupped Excella's face in a manner that Claire was very familiar with, and he was way too close to that scantily clad woman. Their noses were practically touching. From a distance, Wesker's sneer was not apparent—nor was the uncomfortable pressure of his fingertips pressing against Excella's skin. From where Claire stood, the scene looked very suggestive, and as much as she didn't want to watch, her eyes wouldn't move.

She stood on the floor below, looking up at the observation room where Wesker was having his private meeting. Sitting in a room waiting for him hadn't been acceptable to her, and so she'd followed his scent, intending to finally ask him about his project. Instead, she stood rooted in place like some gaping idiot. She'd have never expected to find him in such a position since he didn't seem fond of Excella. _Don't jump to conclusions, Claire_. _He might only be manipulating her with physical contact_. That would fit Wesker's style, but hadn't he done the same thing to his redhead? And hadn't those touches developed into something much more serious?

Claire knew that she was being silly to worry about him replacing her, but her nerves still fluttered in emotional pain. Wesker might not see purely physical sex with another woman as an issue, and so maybe Excella's body was up for grabs. Claire didn't want to see him touching someone else like he had her, especially if that someone was Excella. As if sensing her turmoil, the baby inside of her lightly turned and began to prod her. Claire rubbed a hand over her stomach in response, and her eyes took on the taint of unmistakable sorrow. She shouldn't have assumed anything about Wesker's sexual habits, she knew, but she was carrying his child, and she cared about what they shared together. She wouldn't dream of touching someone else after everything they'd gone through.

Jill was entering the room above, and Claire silently watched the meeting conclude. The two women were leaving, and Claire decided to take a hint from them; she forced herself to turn and walk away. She was in the mood for a peaceful setting—maybe a grassy patch by a river or a bench along a snowy pathway, somewhere she could unwind, but this was an Umbrella lab. Monotonous, gray halls wouldn't be much help with her longings, and so her dejected steps moved with a hint of anger, although she had no idea what she wanted to direct the emotion toward.

Her hand touched the door that would lead her from this place, and at the same time she felt conspicuous as an eerie feeling flitted across her shoulders. _The feeling of being watched_, she realized. Were those Wesker's eyes on her back? Had he spotted her from the room above? Claire kept moving, knowing that they would eventually talk, but he could come to her this time. She didn't feel like going to him when the stings of jealousy lingered over her heart, one reason being that she didn't want to feel or look ridiculous. After all, what she had witnessed might mean nothing.

She didn't know where she was going, but it didn't matter since she was already shooting in the dark with her plans. She would love to find a lab with sedatives to use on Jill, for tackling her friend head-on might harm the child. If she was going to get that thing off of Jill's chest, she was going to need a more roundabout way of subduing her. And so she checked room after room, finding most labs completely devoid of chemicals and recent equipment.

"Progenitor Project W?" she questioned when she came to a glass door. The title was printed on the glass, and she ran a finger over the black paint before entering the lab. There were still a few folders left on one of the tables, as if someone had recently been using the materials, and a large white container labeled 'embryos' sat at the rear of the facility. Claire walked around the room and studied tools and machines that she'd never seen before. The embryo tank was avoided, for the mere thought of Umbrella experimenting with children sent furious chills down her spine. They really had been a company of complete and utter bastards.

_I wonder when Wesker will come_. She sat down and grabbed one of the folders out of morose curiosity. The cover flipped open, and she mindlessly scanned the page. _Project W Preliminary Research: Phase 1. Head Researcher: Arnold Wesker_. Claire's heart skipped a beat, and she refocused on the text with renewed interest. _Orders direct from Dr. Spencer. Test suitability of embryos to accept progenitor_…Someone had scribbled notes in the margin of the next page. _Promising start. Request larger facility and developing children for further testing. Move to main US lab 5680._

She flipped page after page without learning anything else of worth. The data was incomprehensible, and the test subjects were mere faceless numbers. The other notebooks were similarly filled, except for the final page, where she found more notes in the same handwriting as before: _Embryos will work well. Specimens should be vastly improved humans, but hosts are needed. Request to move approved. Equipment pickup Thursday._

Click.

Claire knew without looking up that Wesker had entered the room. She breathed, willing her jealousy to subside as she closed the folder and slid it away from herself. She looked up at the door, but Wesker was not where she expected him to be. The air shifted, and he materialized behind her, hands coming to rest on her shoulders. _He was touching her with those hands, _she recalled_. Claire, stop it! _

"I see that you've discovered one of Umbrella's lesser known projects," he commented.

"Arnold Wesker…" Claire wondered. "Was he related to you?"

"No, but you might say that he fathered me." Claire decidedly did not like the sound of that. She imagined Wesker as child surrounded by Umbrella staff, his young body being subjected to study. It was a disturbing image. Did he come from one of those embryos?

"So are you…I mean…Umbrella was part of your life from the start?" she asked. It sounded terrible to her, and her tone reflected the abhorrence that she felt. No baby should be treated as an experiment. Childhood was supposed to be positive and loving, as hers would have been had her parents not died, and who knew what progenitor had done to her lover as a child. Wesker began to gently squeeze her shoulders, and she wanted to lean into him, but she still couldn't shake the image of Excella's hand touching his chest.

"You find Umbrella's involvement in my childhood disgusting?" Wesker asked her, voice steady, as if he was truly interested in her opinion.

"I find sticking progenitor into an embryo and then into an unsuspecting mother to be disgusting—not the results of doing it," Claire clarified. Wesker chuckled.

"Obviously not," he said, now touching her hair. He always seemed to favor touching her hair and face, and while Claire wondered why, she never objected. "The results of Wesker's work were not disappointing on any level. I was improved from the beginning." Claire turned in her chair and stared up into his cloaked face.

"Doesn't it bother you?" she asked. "You were made in a lab, as an experiment."

"Not in a lab, dear heart," he corrected. "The tests here were preliminary. I was already born when they injected me with progenitor, and I was returned to my parents."

"Still…I wouldn't want to know that I was someone's project," she frowned.

"There were benefits, and Spencer funded my creation in order to start a new world order. He could not have picked more suitable words before his death. If only the fool had known. He thought that he'd become a god, but he was only a rich scientist with too much ambition for his shortened, human years." Claire shuddered and stood, disliking the feel of Wesker looming over her. She crossed her arms and looked away. His face had almost been touching Excella's. What would have happened had Jill not shown up? _Claire_, she told herself for the umpteenth time, _stop fixating on that image._

"Did Umbrella make you what you are?" Claire quietly asked, looking back at Wesker. He was coming closer, ending the distance that she'd unconsciously placed between them. "Did the virus change you?"

"Spencer tried to instill the Wesker children with certain traits that would make us valuable to him in the future, but he also wanted our submission to him as a new god. I put an end to that idea when I watched his life expire." He went to pull Claire closer, and her hesitation toward his behest did not go unnoticed. "I take full responsibility for what I am and what I've done," he told her. "Umbrella planted a seed that they couldn't control—a reoccurring theme for them, as I'm sure you've noticed. Spencer was arrogant. I have no master but myself." His arms were around her, and he carefully examined her blue eyes. "Are you worried that the viruses will negatively affect the child?"

"Our child," Claire corrected. "And maybe I am." She knew that Wesker wasn't fatherly, but it was their baby, and she wanted him to think of it as such.

"Are you worried that it will turn out like me?" Wesker pressed, straight-faced. "Cold, ambitious, pragmatic."

"Not exactly," Claire answered. "You are who you are, and I want you to be around once our baby's born. I want him to have a father. I want you there with us, no matter what you've done. And," she emphasized, "you're not as cold as everyone thinks. If you were, I'd be in a tank." Wesker pulled her closer, acknowledging that there was some truth to her statements, and again he noticed that there was a brief hesitation on her part as he reeled her in.

"As long as you don't leave or break my trust, I won't disappear," he honestly told her. "You're mine, Claire." The words were spoken with such solid belief that Claire dove into their depths and didn't want to surface for air. "The child is also mine." She shifted. "Ours," he corrected to please her, and because it was true. "Your uncertainty is insulting." _But you were touching her_, Claire thought. "Do you trust me, Claire?" he unexpectedly asked. She paused, considering the weighty words.

"What if I say yes?"

"Then either you understand me more than most, or you're a fool."

"And if I say no?"

"Then either you're wise, or..." Red met blue as Wesker's eyes glowed behind his sunglasses. "…Or you don't know me at all." Claire's eyes softened, and whether this was a careful set up or not, she knew that Wesker wasn't just playing with her mind. There was something genuine to what he was so carefully suggesting, and she found herself reaching for it.

"I want to trust you," she said. "You won't hurt me; I know that, but you would if I gave you no choice. You'll hurt me indirectly through my friends, but only because they're in your way. You'll protect me if I ask, because you want me and I'm useful…Albert, there are many things that I don't even wonder about anymore, but I'd be an idiot to blindly follow you. This isn't over, and you keep most of yourself locked away." She pulled away, but Wesker held onto one of her hands. Claire stared at their joined fingers. She wanted him to let go, but she didn't at the same time. "How would you like me to answer your question?" she asked him.

"You already gave me exactly what I wanted," he said. Really? Claire was still staring at their hands.

"And what was my answer?" Wesker smirked and looked damned handsome while doing it. Then she was snapped against his chest so quickly that she hardly had time to blink, and his silky words were tickling her ears.

"You're not good at lying to me, dear heart. The fact that you couldn't answer said everything." Claire stared at him, confused. Did Wesker know her better than she knew herself? Sometimes he seemed to, but he did make a living off of manipulation. "You trust me, but you question your decision. You take a little from each possible answer." He lightly chuckled, and the vibrations ran across Claire's skin in the loveliest manner. "Ah, dear heart, you're no fool, but you tread dangerous ground."

"I don't know about the not being a fool part," Claire confessed with a sad smile.

"You will, but now we have some business to finalize. I'm afraid that you'll find it rather unpleasant, but that can't be prevented. We should hurry before Miss Gionne ruins our chances at entertainment." Claire kept a straight face, but Jill's words were suddenly at the forefront. Someone had survived the caves. Chris? Sheva? Who else could it be? Claire held back her fears and found anger as a ready substitute. If Excella harmed Chris, she was going to be ripping out some raven colored hair. Wesker could try to stop her, but Claire was already storming toward the door, determined to reach whoever else had managed to infiltrate this base before that bitch did.

"Claire," Wesker called, and she paused, eyes burning with emerging amber flecks. "As much as you despise our dear Excella, she is still of use to me." _He wants to keep her around_. Claire did not intend to reveal her pain over what she'd seen, but perhaps it was already apparent to Wesker. She bit her tongue to prevent saying anything telling as Wesker walked her out into the hallway. He led her to an elevator, and soon they were traveling toward another floor where Claire knew she wouldn't find the entertainment that Wesker had promised. Tension was building. The elevator was suffocated by it, ominous tendrils curling about Claire and taunting her.

Her brother, Wesker, Jill, Sheva, Excella…everyone was about to collide, and then hell was going to break loose. Her stomach in this dress meant no hiding the pregnancy, and when Chris saw her with Wesker, what would he do? What would she do?—not leave him to die. And there was Jill to save, but also explanations for which there was no time. And she wasn't leaving Wesker, but Chris wouldn't understand. This was a nightmare, and it was her nightmare.

"This is going to be hellish," she softly stated, and Wesker didn't reply. Technically Claire didn't need to attend this little meeting, and so she wondered what his intentions were in bringing her along. He might simply want to keep an eye on her; that had to be part of it, but there was also the fact that he borderline hated Chris. He'd used her to taunt her brother before.

"You said that you wouldn't run," Wesker solemnly reminded her.

"I won't," and her conviction made Wesker glance at her stony features. "He's going to find out one way or another." There was no need to clarify who the 'he' was, and Wesker was impressed by Claire's acceptance of what he was leading her toward.

Beep.

The elevator doors slid open, and Claire prepared to step out. Strangely, it was Wesker's confident presence that was lending her more strength than she felt she had. This was it. On a whim, she spun and kissed him, relishing the feel of his lips against hers as he held the elevator door open. Then, just as suddenly, she broke away and began walking.

"It was nothing," Wesker stated. Claire paused, her instincts telling her that he'd known about her agitation all along.

"It didn't look like nothing," she replied.

"I've no interest in her beyond her research. The fact that I have interest in anyone is a result of circumstances that are unlikely to repeat themselves ever again." Claire took heart in his words as he walked passed her. Coming from Wesker, that statement was as good as a proposal, even though it was utterly unromantic and unofficial. "Let's see how your friends are handling my uroboros." What? Shit. That did not sound good. She ran passed Wesker without a backward glance. There was a foul smell in the air, and someone was yelling. It sounded like Chris.


	18. Chapter 18: And the Curtain Falls Down

Chapter 18: And the Curtain Falls Down

"You handle a flamethrower well," Sheva commented while catching her breath. The thing that had once been a man lay on the floor, worms writhing over his fallen body as life drained from them. Chris kicked the charred remains of a leg and frowned.

"What was Excella talking about?" he asked.

"I don't know, but it didn't sound good." Sheva brushed loose strands of dark hair from her face and checked her ammo supply.

"Claire said that this was big," Chris recalled. "If Wesker's involved, it has to be." His fists reflexively clenched. "If he has Claire…"

"Do you think she's here?" And Sheva laid a reassuring hand on Chris's shoulder.

"Claire wouldn't go home. She has to be here somewhere—maybe Jill too, and Wesker." Sheva was happy that his frustrated tone had morphed into one of determination over the last few hours. Both of them felt that the end of this fiasco was fast approaching. "But what could Wesker want with Claire?"

"We won't find answers here," Sheva stated, also eyeing the dead uroboros creation with disdain. Parts of its slimy body clung to the front of her tank top, and she brushed them off with disgust. "We need to find Excella."

"Yeah," Chris agreed. "I'm sick of being in the dark."

"You and me both, partner." They exchanged convicted expressions and pressed forward, exiting the lab and running down gloomy hallways scattered with supplies. They didn't bother to conceal their advanced, but charged onward without regard for secrecy given that they were operating on limited time. Chris wouldn't let Excella leave, for with her went his chances of finding his family and stopping the uroboros. He was fortunate that Sheva was such a solid companion for the task, for she'd never questioned his devotion once. They were in this together, and in a bittersweet comparison, her tenacity rather reminded him of Jill.

_Jill_, his heart clenched. After so long, shouldn't the pain have lessened? But it hadn't, and Claire had always told him to have hope. But was there a reason for hope? Maybe Claire knew something that he didn't. The possibility was discomforting and real since Claire had been keeping a huge number of secrets from him for several years, but there had to be a reason for such a decision. _Yeah, like she was hanging out with the enemy_. He was troubled more than he was angry. He just wanted his sister and girlfriend back, but if Claire had learned something about Jill through Wesker, why hadn't she told him?

It wasn't that Claire didn't care, because he knew for a fact that she did. She had risked her life to save him and Sheva, and she'd even left tips for them throughout their journey. But why had she worked solo? Chris's mood sank in painful contemplation. If Claire felt that she had to act alone, was it because she was independent or because she didn't trust him? He'd never considered that option before because he was busy trying to determine how much he trusted her instead of the other way around; but maybe it was time to consider that Claire might have very good reasons for keeping her distance. Maybe she didn't want to hurt him, as she had claimed, and the situation was as simple as that. She had distanced herself in order to protect him before, like when their adoptive relatives would abuse her while he was out running errands. She never told him about it because she didn't want him to worry, but he'd always known when something was wrong.

He wanted to give her a hug as his thoughts turned in circles. He was going to find her if it killed him. If Jill really was gone, he was going to at least save Claire. She was his only remaining family in this world, and he couldn't shake the image of her smiling face from his mind as he jogged ahead.

_You are so annoying, Chris! _

_What are you doing? You can't wash colored and white clothing together in warm water._

_I didn't want to hurt you. _

_I went to him. _

But why, Claire, why does this have to be so difficult? She'd spent a lot of time with Wesker. Were his e-mails the ones that she obsessively checked her inbox for? Chris started to see what he'd been missing for all these past months and years. It wasn't just Claire or Wesker acting, but both of them. They had chosen, together, to stay in contact, but what that could mean did not sit well with Chris. Claire wouldn't work for Wesker, so that meant that it wasn't business that they were discussing. Her virus perhaps? But she was stable. Were the e-mails personal? No way in hell, not with Wesker, but the possibility was there, and now that he'd unearthed it, the tide of suggestive thoughts that he'd been trying to fend off came crashing down on him anew.

In his darkest contemplations, back when the shock of the governmental photo had first struck him, he'd imagined Claire and Wesker sharing the same space without antagonism, and sometimes Wesker's hands would wander to her hair or her waist. The fact that Claire seemed so nervous about telling him about her stay with Wesker meant that something serious and something that he wouldn't like had occurred, but surely she wouldn't have let that bastard touch her? He didn't even know if Wesker would do such a thing. After all, he'd never seen Wesker spending time with females other than coworkers ever before, but if he could hurt Chris by using Claire…

And Claire never showed interest in anyone. Chris felt stupid for not noticing that before, but Claire definitely hadn't been on a date since her first kidnapping. Before that, she'd tried to find someone, and he'd always wondered why she never showed interest in Leon, especially since she'd entertained romantic notions about him after Raccoon City, but not anymore. Was her lack of interest because she was waiting for that next e-mail?

"Chris!" Sheva excitedly called, and her gun was raised as she ran ahead of him. Chris crashed back to reality and noticed that they'd entered a large room with a short flight of stairs at the far end. Excella stood at their base, one hand on her hip as she paused in her ascent. Her lips curled into the most confident and cruelly amused smile as Chris and Sheva aimed their weapons at her. She seemed completely unfazed.

"Excella," Chris demanded. "Answers, _now_." The woman waved a hand in the air, dismissing his order as if it were nonsense.

"Chris Redfield," she mused. "I'm beginning to find your entire family annoying. I'm surprised that the uroboros didn't finish you off, but Albert did mention that you're a lucky man."

"I'll shoot if you won't talk," Chris threatened.

"We both will," Sheva affirmed. "So tell us where Jill and Claire are." Excella snapped her fingers and a purple-clothed figure dropped from seemingly nowhere onto the floor beside her. Chris and Sheva recognized the person from before because she'd aided Irving, but a face or name remained elusive. Anyone could have been under that silent exterior, and so her intentions were hard to discern. Just as Chris was wondering if the newcomer would attack, he barely managed to register her charge.

Guns sounded in a futile attempt to stop the attacker as her cloak billowed in a rushed assault. Whoever it was, she was an excellent fighter and fast like Wesker. Her fists collided with Chris's body, and his gun was easily knocked aside. The pistol loudly clattered to the ground and slid across the floor to the side of the room, leaving Chris open. He grunted as he was shoved backward against the wall.

"Duck!" Sheva yelled. Chris reacted out of instinct, his knees buckling and his weight dropping. A loud crack sounded overhead, and when he looked up from where he crouched, he saw the cloaked figure's fist embedded in the metal wall. _Shit, she's strong_. He reached into his pants for a knife while Sheva kept the enemy busy with gunfire, but she had yet to score a hit.

"What a pathetic performance," Excella taunted from her safe perch atop the stairs. "I was expecting…" But she never got to finish. A hand hit her across the face with such force that she stumbled and fell down the stairs. Another woman was left standing where she had been, and the newcomer's countenance was as different from Excella's as the color of their dresses. Claire cracked her knuckles with a wicked smile.

"That felt really good," she stated, pulling her black dress back down to a modest length since it had risen during her run. "My brother is anything but pathetic, Excella." Chris's eyes widened and Sheva was distracted from aiming as they both focused on Claire. Everything seemed to stop with her arrival. The battle lulled to a halt, guns grew silent, and the cloaked figure withdrew to stand between Excella and Claire, almost in a protective stance. Chris took a step forward, not knowing whether to be relieved or confused.

"Claire," he said. "You're alright." And he couldn't help but let his lips raise a little. It was just too good to see her in one piece and looking unharmed, although the dress was a bit strange given the setting.

"Of course I'm alright," she answered.

"How dare you, you little bitch!" Excella spat from her position on the floor. She had ungracefully landed and broken one of her high heels in the fall. Her hands hurriedly worked to rearrange her exposing dress, from which one breast was slipping free. Claire's head had snapped toward her with disdain.

"Oh, I forgot that you were there," she stated, and it was the honesty in her voice that most insulted Excella. "I guess you can go complain to Albert." The women glared at one another, and Chris glanced between them questioningly.

"What is going on?" Sheva asked him.

"Claire, we've got to go," Chris stated. "We have to find Jill and find out what the uroboros project is." Claire visibly tensed, and her eyes shifted to the nearby cloaked figure.

"Chris, there's something that you should know—" Clapping interrupted her, and the slow, measured sound rang with ill intent and mockery. Chris and Sheva tensed and prepared for combat. They couldn't believe who was walking down the stairs.

********************

_Albert_, Claire's mind registered. Her words died on her tongue as she watched him coolly approach, his every inch representing the confident opponent that Chris would recognize. Claire couldn't move, and her heart told her that this had to happen. It was inevitable that this meeting occurred, and she was going to have to stand there and accept whatever hostilities were exchanged between her lover and brother. The curtain was about to fall away, and she silently hoped that complete disaster could be averted.

Wesker's dark form reached the top step where he paused, head tilted toward Chris.

"How nice to see you again, Christopher," he drawled. "You've done a decent job at surviving so far, although my assistant doesn't even bear a scratch, does she?" He took another step, and Chris reached for his back pocket where another pistol was stashed. "No need to be rude, Chris. Don't you want to chat? After all, it looks like everyone's here."

"You should be dead," Chris stated, and Wesker darkly chuckled.

"Did Umbrella teach you nothing? Death isn't exactly permanent. Perhaps it is for a human such as yourself, but for others of us…" His hand tellingly motioned to Claire, who still stood apprehensively watching the scene unfold. Meanwhile, Excella had recovered and was moving away from the scene while rubbing her jaw.

"I'll meet you for departure," she said, glaring at Claire. Wesker didn't seem to care about his assistant's statement, and so she left, for which Claire was eternally grateful. Now there was one less person to keep track of.

"What are you planning, Wesker?" Chris demanded.

"I've got your back," Sheva quietly assured him, and Chris solemnly nodded.

"Is that all you care about?" Wesker taunted him. "You haven't changed."

"Like you care," Chris spat. "I'm getting Jill and my sister out of here, and then we're going to settle this." Wesker shook his head in mock surprise.

"So you don't know yet. Hmmm…" He walked toward Jill's back, and one of his hands rose to rest on her hood. "I thought that Claire might have told you already." Chris briefly glanced at Claire, who apologized with her saddened eyes. _I was trying_, she mouthed to him, and he seemed to understand, for he nodded. _Please, Albert_, she thought; _don't torture him like this_. But he was going to get pleasure out of this no matter what she said. He was going to make Chris suffer for the inconvenience that the former mentee represented. Wesker's fingers grabbed purple fabric.

_Don't panic, Chris._ Claire hated herself for only standing there while Jill's hood was pulled off. She closed her eyes and willed the image of her confused brother away. Death would have been better than seeing his lover turned into the thing that she most hated.

"Jill…?" Chris gaped. "It's me: Chris. Jill!"

"She can't respond," Claire stated, opening her eyes. "But she can hear you." Chris yanked his second pistol free in renewed determination and leveled it at Wesker's face.

"Claire, get behind us!" he ordered. _I can't_. "Wesker, what the hell did you do to Jill?" Sheva was tensed for immediate action and equally stunned by Jill's behavior, but she was also paying closer attention to Claire, who felt the woman's eyes on her. There was a fiery passion behind those dark irises that warned Claire that Sheva had no reason to trust her but would try to protect her for Chris's sake. That was the type of trust that Claire now envied, and she willed Sheva to keep trusting Chris throughout this madness. Hopefully, his new partner would survive this.

"I made some modifications to our old friend," Wesker was telling Chris. "I'm sorry that you don't approve." One of his gloved hands landed on Jill's shoulder, and Jill's dead face didn't alter in any way shape or form, not even acknowledgment.

"Claire, get over here!" Chris ordered again now that he noticed that Claire hadn't moved. "This is going to get ugly." Wesker smirked and stepped back from Jill, half-turning toward Claire.

"For once, your brother is right, dear heart," he said. What? Claire stared at him in surprise. "We wouldn't want the child to be damaged." _You bastard_, she inwardly yelled, but he was only making her publicly accept the consequences her actions. And she couldn't blame him for hurting Chris when she had chosen to keep this a secret for so long. Who would cause Chris more emotional pain was debatable.

"Child?" Sheva asked, incredibly confused. Claire felt all eyes except Jill's move toward her bulging abdomen, and she watched as Chris's face contorted in surprise and then concern.

"Claire, you're pregnant?" he asked in a daze. His eyes darted between Claire and Jill as if unsure who to focus on. Claire was nodding in answer while Wesker walked closer to her. Now that he'd used her against Chris, did he actually want her to leave? She decided that she wasn't going to listen, no matter what he did to her.

"We will depart shortly," he said softly so that only she could hear. "Go to…"

"I'm not leaving," Claire declared, meaning the statement in two very different ways at the same time. Wesker stared at her in challenge, and Claire had to urge to feel his hands on her face, but now was not the time for reassurance. His stern face commanded her to leave, but her face was equally hardened. In a matter of seconds, his face loosened, and now he wore that contemplative expression that told Claire he was plotting.

"It's your decision," he finally allowed.

"Wesker, get away from her!" Chris yelled. "We're taking Claire with us. You have no reason to keep her. She isn't involved in this." Wesker smirked with dark promise. _You wouldn't_, Claire silently questioned him, but he would. She'd lost her chance to leave without further harm when she refused his offer. Now she was going to have to ride out the storm.

"Oh, I don't know about that, Chris," Wesker pleasantly commented. "Surely you know that Claire has been very involved for some time." He was walking back towards Jill. "Miss Redfield will be leaving, but not with you."

"Why do you want her?" Chris scathingly demanded. Wesker paused.

"I'm afraid that it's not such a simple question to answer," he carefully enunciated. "However, if Claire wants to leave with you, she may." Claire felt as if the ground had dropped out from beneath her, but she remained outwardly steady. Only her lowered eyes gave hint of her emotions. _He'll never completely forgive you for this_, her mind warned. _Please, Chris, please—prove me wrong. Show me that our bound is stronger than this._

"Claire…?" Chris questioned, sensing the devious nature of Wesker's comment. Claire met his eyes, but she did not move. "Claire?" And his voice was hurt and confused.

"Enough time wasted," Wesker scoffed. "My work here is almost done." Suddenly Jill raced into combat, and she flipped over Chris while grabbed onto his arm. The limb was painfully pulled backward, and Jill used the gained leverage to swing him into the wall. The room descended into chaos as Wesker himself entered combat, and Claire saw his gains for the first time. He was faster, stronger, and more reactive than she was, but how, she did not know.

Sheva and Chris fired and dodged attacks. Chris even landed a punch on Wesker, but the damage was trivial. _They're going to lose_, Claire thought. There she stood, one hand protectively over her stomach and the other clenched in a frustrated fist. Would she risk too much by fighting? Would Wesker forgive her for fighting against him? Her muscles tensed and her eyes narrowed as Jill pulled out a machine gun. No. Just plain no. Claire couldn't live in peace for saving her child when it came at the cost of her brother.

"Chris!" She moved faster than anyone anticipated as Jill locked the machine gun into a firing position. Claire's hands wrapped around the barrel, and she twisted the metal so that the gun was irreparably damaged. Jill responded by trying to punch her, but Claire caught the fist and kicked Jill in the gut while muttering an apology.

"Claire!" Wesker harshly barked. He was angry with her, but Claire ignored him, and he was prevented from going after her by Sheva's knife. This was the time to free Jill, and nothing was going to stop her. She tackled Jill to the ground, and her hands ripped open the collar of Jill's body suit.

"I'm getting this off," she swore, but Jill was violently struggling. Claire was forced to hit her in the face with incredible force to buy several stunned seconds. Her fingers wrapped around the edge of the metal against Jill's chest, and she began to pull, but the other woman was already recovering. With a vicious yell, Jill seized Claire's shoulders and pushed with such force that Claire was sent flying backward. _No_! She clung to the device with all her might, and as she fell backward, the metal began to tear free from skin.

"Ahhhhhh!" Jill's scream rent the air, and Claire landed on her back with a grunt. The red and gray device was still clutched in her hand, and as she glanced at Jill, she saw light return to the eyes of a once dead face. "Claire…" Jill painfully breathed. Even with gunshots and the battle against Wesker raging mere yards away, a look of peace came over Jill's features. "I…" She leaned against a column and clutched her brutally burning chest. A large, red wound stood out against her pale features. "Thank you, Claire."

"It was the least I could do." Jill's hanging head lifted, and she grimaced as she pushed away from her support.

"Claire! Wesker, he's…" Claire turned and saw Wesker bearing down on Sheva. He was going to kill her. Numbness seized Claire as she noticed that a gun was on the floor beside her. A pistol. She mindlessly grabbed it and moved, but her heart wasn't in her actions. She couldn't do this. She wouldn't do it. But there was the gun, and there were her friends. Something had to happen.

"Stop!" she cried out as she ran between Wesker and Sheva. She raised the gun and placed the barrel's cold point directly against Wesker's forehead. Sheva scooted away to a safe distance, and Chris was helping her stand, but they might as well have been in a different dimension. Claire heard them at her back. She sensed Jill struggling to recover from recent release to her right, but her entire being was drawn toward the man before her.

"Dear heart," Wesker said, voice soft but razor sharp, a slight frown on his face.

"Please let them go." Claire's voice was weaker than she had intended, and it told Wesker exactly what he needed to know. This was an empty threat. She would never pull that trigger, and she didn't want to. Her hand was slightly unsteady, and her amber eyes were already fading to blue. "We can leave and let them go." _We_ can leave. She wasn't going with Chris.

"Claire, pull the trigger!" Chris encouraged.

"Please," Claire again asked Wesker. He lifted a hand and wiped away the few tears that were falling down her face.

"Never pull a gun on me again," he ground out. Claire nodded, and Wesker seemed to reach a decision. He lifted one of his hands, palm upturned and expectantly waiting for her to concede. He was making her surrender before Chris in retaliation for her involvement, and even though it hurt, Claire also felt relief. His point was proven: she was his beyond a doubt, and she would admit it for all of them. No more hiding. But he was admitting something too, she decided, and simply by way of not striking her down after stopping him. This was them, and they were bound by something beyond what should have been permissible.

Claire lowered the pistol and set it in Wesker's grasp. She had just committed the ultimate sin against her own blood, and she was relieved that the secret was out.

"Claire!" Chris gasped. "What are you doing?" Wesker smirked.

"Redfield luck saves the day again, Chris," he said with amusement. "Perhaps we'll play another time." He wrapped his arms around Claire, and spoke in her ear. "You do know what you've done?" he asked her.

"One hundred percent," she whispered back. The two disappeared from sight.


	19. Chapter 19: A World of Confusion

Chapter 19: A World of Confusion

Jill tried to stand, but agony ripped through her veins, and the longer she stood, the worse it became. Her chest throbbed, and when she looked down, the sight of reddened skin greeted her, deep puncture wounds decorating her chest in a circle. It was gone. She couldn't believe it. That damned thing was no longer part of her, and her hands were moving of her volition, not Wesker's. That bastard. Of all the things that he could have done to her, this had been the worst.

"It's not over yet," she sighed. No longer able to stand, she collapsed onto the floor. Her palms held up her trembling form as she heard the last of Wesker's words. She wanted to rip the man's eyes out, yet she could not move. He had made her kill his workers when they outlived their usefulness; made her infect innocent men, women, and children. She felt sick when she considered her actions. She had watched like a helpless bystander as her hand held onto a child's arm and offered him food that would ruin his youth. She could still feel the texture of the boy's skin beneath her fingers and see his curious eyes. She had internally screamed for him to run, but he'd taken the food, and she'd mutely watched in horror as he consumed it. _You killed that boy. No, not me._

She wanted to sink into the ground and never surface. She knew that she wasn't responsible, but the experience was still hers, and it would haunt her for eternity. Faces flashed through her mind—people she never knew but whose lives she had ended, and they'd cursed her like they cursed the parasites. She _was_ a parasite in their eyes, one feeding on their souls and turning them against one another. _How does it feel, Miss Valentine, to know that you've made my work here possible?_ Wesker's taunts tortured her even now.

And the uroboros project, she painfully realized. The world still slept silently while the threat of mass suffering loomed ever closer. She might have failed to resist Wesker, but he still had to be stopped, and she could still help. She needed to help in order to feel truly free and redeemed from her captor's taint.

"Claire!" Chris yelled. Jill closed her eyes and fell flat onto the floor. Wesker had escaped, and Claire had gone with him. Oh god, Claire. Jill had understood Claire's humane concerns for Wesker from the start, for she'd also felt them once upon a time. And she'd known that the two had shared something, but she'd never told Chris, and she'd never known the extent of it. Certainly she couldn't have guessed the depth of what Claire felt toward Wesker. Did Claire love him? She cared very deeply for him at the least, and yet she'd somehow remained true to Jill throughout this deadly game.

_I could have killed the baby_, but Claire had still risked that tragedy to save her friend. The redhead hadn't changed or acted differently than she normally would have, but how could she love that monstrous man? It wasn't a complete mystery, as much as recent experience made acceptance of that fact difficult, for Jill had seen how Wesker and Claire interacted. She did understand on some level, and she admitted that Claire could see something in Wesker that she couldn't given her torture at the man's hands. She wasn't angry or even bitter about Claire's decision, but she wished that Claire had guarded her heart more carefully. This could not possibly end well.

"Jill!" She smiled as she felt Chris's hands grip her shoulders and roll her over. He was holding her against his chest, leveling her so that Sheva could examine her chest wound. He was being gentle with her, like she might break at any moment. _Chris is here_; _you're safe_. He didn't look any different from before, except maybe a little more haggard. "Are you okay?" he asked her.

"I've been better," she weakly said. "Long time, no see." It had been so long since she'd spoken like this that her voice sounded strange. Like a child awaking from a nightmare, she found it difficult to believe that she'd escaped from the horrors. Freedom was a foreign concept after such lengthy captivity, but she still managed to smile as Chris offered her some bottled water from his pack. "Thanks."

"It's not bad," Sheva said as she finished her examination. "The wound should heal soon."

"Jill, meet Sheva," Chris introduced. "She's been working with me."

"A pleasure, Jill Valentine," Sheva warmly smiled and offered her a hand. "I've heard a lot about you." _She is strong_, Jill noted—a good match for Chris in taking down Wesker; although she would have liked the honor for herself.

"Don't waste time on me," she said. "You need to catch Wesker. He'll release uroboros on the world. It's part of his grand plan to change the human race." Chris gently squeezed her, and Jill wanted to stay in his arms forever. It'd been far too long since he'd joked with her, or pulled her into bed for the comfort of sheets and body heat. She'd craved his presence more than anything during her captivity, especially when she'd seen Wesker wrap his arms around Claire. She'd noticed how he caressed her in an almost fond manner, and Claire was like butter in his arms.

"We'll stop him," Chris was telling her. "But what about you? We can't leave you here." He was using his adorable worried tone.

"I'll get out on my own," she stated, but her mind was elsewhere. Chris's arms felt so good. Did Claire crave Wesker's arms in the same way? Had the feel of the tyrant's skin after months of absence meant as much to Claire as Chris's touch meant to her? She had thought that _she'd_ known pain, but perhaps Claire was paying a price greater or equal to what she'd endured. Jill couldn't help but pity her friend.

"Are you sure that you'll make it out?" Chris asked Jill. "You're injured."

"My body still hasn't gotten rid of the chemicals that Wesker injected into me. I'll be able to make it out with their help," Jill explained. She wasn't sure if the effects were permanent or not, but that was a question for another time.

"Let's get a move on then," Sheva announced. "We have to stop uroboros!" Chris nodded, but his eyes were still uncertain as they watched Jill.

"Don't you trust your partner?" Jill smiled.

"Of course I do." He helped her stand and gave her a quick hug before pulling away. He and Sheva were ready to leave.

"Chris, there is something that I need to tell you before you go," Jill stated. "It's about Claire, and it's not going to be easy for you to understand." Chris watched her lips move with the utmost attention, no outward sign of emotion coming from him. "Claire really is pregnant."

"How?" Chris asked with dread.

"It's Wesker's."

"You're certain? Was it consensual? Did that son of a bitch force her?"

"My guess is that they've consensually been together for years. Claire told me about the pregnancy without any regrets, and it's not Stockholm, so don't try to suggest it. She never stopped trying to help our side. She gave me more hope and strength when Wesker still controlled me than I can tell you. Chris, I felt like dying after I gave Irving the control Plagas; I thought that I had helped kill you, but Claire was here. She promised that she'd save me, and she did. She even spoke to me like we were friends after I had hit her. Chris," Jill breathed, "I don't know how this happened…"

"Do you think that she loves him?" Chris stiffly asked, and Sheva was uncomfortably fingering the gun at her side.

"It's possible," Jill admitted. "Claire has always been dedicated when it comes to her heart, even if the consequences are difficult."

"But why does Wesker keep her?" Chris wanted to know. "We all know that the selfish bastard doesn't love her." Jill considered what she had seen between Wesker and Claire and didn't know what to tell Chris.

"All I know is that he would call her on slow days, and sometimes he mailed her gifts. He ordered me to protect her once we captured her. He even had me keep an eye on Excella so that she didn't bother Claire." Jill shook her head in wonder. "He keeps her close."

"But he always has a double motive," Chris quietly muttered, not believing what he was hearing. "We're going to get Claire back and kill Wesker. Whatever happened isn't going to change what has to be done. She'll break free of his influence or whatever games he's played with her when he's gone. Come on, Sheva." The two were leaving, and Jill watched their determined strides with saddened approval and envy. She wanted to go with them and be there to see the end.

"Chris, it might not be so simple!" she suddenly called after them. "Claire cares too much to watch him die!" _I love you, and if you died, I'd never fully recover from the loss. Claire will be no different. Oh, Claire, what have you gotten yourself into?_ Chris and Sheva were almost out of earshot. "Good luck!" _Kill that bastard_. Then she turned and ran for the exit. She had a contact number for Chris and Sheva, and she was going to give them backup. They would need all the help that they could get, because taking down Wesker and Excella was not going to be easy.

************

How could this happen? Chris found that the question wouldn't leave him alone. He couldn't help but feel that part of the responsibility for this situation lay with him, for if Claire's confidence in him had been strong enough, she might not have run to Wesker when she became infected. At the very least, he should have noticed the warning signs of her affection for Wesker. She had occasionally made quick comments about his preferences in food or clothing, or smiled at some inside joke that he never asked her about. He had simply looked the other way, because her liking Wesker seemed impossible. Hell, anyone liking Wesker seemed impossible, so what did Claire see in the man?

_She's pregnant with his child_, Chris's mind reeled. His sister was sleeping with Wesker, and she probably had been for a long time. How long? He wanted to know, but he didn't want to know. Obviously he couldn't deny that Claire honestly felt for the Wesker, because she'd never taken sex or public commitment lightly. It was a point with her to only join with someone who she was extremely attached to, which added up to only one guy before Wesker.

_Your sister loves Wesker._

_Maybe he brainwashed her. _

The reason didn't matter as much as getting her back did, and even he couldn't rationalize the brainwashing theory. When she'd talked to him, Claire had seemed very cognizant of what she was doing, but this was craziness. She couldn't be with Wesker. It wasn't possible, and if she learned that Wesker was using her, her heart would be ripped in two. It was just one more reason to end this as quickly as possible. His sister needed saving whether she realized it or not, and she had to know that this was not going to end happily ever after. Someone had to lose and pay the ultimate price.

"Shit!" he cursed. "How did Claire and Wesker happen?"

"Focus on the mission," Sheva suggested. "Sorting this out has to wait until later."

"You don't know Claire, Sheva," Chris countered. "She's a careful thinker, and if she's decided to stay with Wesker, it means that she's determined to do so. Hell, but she knows how manipulative he is…" Maybe Wesker wasn't just using her, but Chris quickly dismissed that option. Wesker's black heart was smothered beneath his lust for power, and Chris doubted that even someone as caring as Claire could affect its shriveled core. However, it definitely looked like she was trying.

_She really is planning on staying with Wesker_. Admitting it stung Chris with a sense of betrayal. Claire was Wesker's, and not because he'd taken her, but because she was giving herself to him. If anything tried to stop Chris from reaching those two, he was going to mercilessly blast it apart. Actually, having something to kill wouldn't have been unwelcomed at the current time.

"Chris, we can't be distracted," Sheva firmly insisted, and she was right. Chris forced a lid over his personal turmoil. "If Claire is as dedicated as Jill warned, will she try to stop us?" Sheva added in concern. "I won't let her stand between me and Wesker."

Damn," Chris huffed. "Claire can't want him to win, Sheva. She's got a social conscience a mile thick."

"But she chose him over you," Sheva argued. "If she's against him, what is she trying to accomplish by staying with him?"

"I don't know!" Chris harshly answered in exasperation. Sheva narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm sorry," Chris apologized. "You're right. She won't stay out of it."

"So we can't trust her," Sheva concluded, and the words seared Chris across the chest. Maybe he couldn't completely trust Claire. She hadn't exactly been honest with him, and even if she wouldn't hurt him, would she let him hurt Wesker? She was recklessly bold when it came to the people she loved. "Chris?" Sheva asked. "What are we going to do about her?"

"Try to keep her away from Wesker," Chris answered. "I won't hurt her, Sheva. She's still my sister—whatever she's done—and she still cares enough to challenge Wesker for our safety. She's going to have to choose a side." In the grind, he believed that Claire would side with them, but doubt lurked in his mind. She had killed for Wesker once, so would she do it again? Maybe she loved Wesker more than her sibling and would actively protect him, but Chris still had a hard time believing that Claire truly loved that beast. Maybe Sheva was right in concluding that they couldn't trust her anymore. Maybe, maybe, maybe. And poor Chris had no idea what he should be feeling.


	20. Chapter 20: A Mother's Instincts

Chapter 20: A Mother's Instincts

Excella's jaw was still aching when she noticed that Claire and Wesker had returned but without Jill. She stood in the control room of a large, cargo ship, her eyes fixed on the monitor beside her. The grainy image showed Claire up against the wall and Wesker leaning in close to her, one arm braced against the wall, and the other on Claire's hip. Why hadn't he ever touched Excella like that? And that unworthy brat that he favored had even hit her in support of Chris and his allies. Obviously Wesker thought that Claire was worthwhile, but there was nothing remarkable about that woman. It was maddening.

They looked so familiar with each other on the screen, and Excella hated it; although, she tried to deny that she, Excella Gionne, could be jealous of anyone, especially some nobody. In general, men were toys, but Wesker…he was going to be great. He _was_ great, and she wanted him all to herself. Surely she could convince him that Claire was an unnecessary hassle, and if not, perhaps she would take matters into her own hands. She had worked too long and hard on this project to be overshadowed by another. The glory of uroboros would belong to her and Wesker alone.

Excella promptly pivoted on her heels and made her way down the ship's corridors. She knew exactly where Wesker and his side project were located.

****************

"It was foolish to involve yourself," Wesker softly spoke into Claire's solemn face. His sunglasses had been removed, and his uncovered, red orbs hovered mere inches from Claire's blue ones. "The child could have been lost."

"I couldn't let Chris die," Claire told him. "You knew that I wouldn't just stand there and let it happen. Even though I've decided to stay with you, I haven't abandoned everyone else." She stared at his chiseled features and lifted a hand to smooth some of his tousled, blond hair back into place. It was almost always so perfect. "I know that you aren't happy about what I did," she continued, "but isn't it enough that I've shown everyone my loyalty to you? You cruelly provoked Chris, and I let it happen. Now he knows the truth, and he's hurt, and I'll never be able to just run to his arms like a sister again." Her eyes lowered in painful dejection.

"Such sadness…" Wesker blankly contemplated. He lifted her chin with a finger. "It seems that you regret your decision to stay. Perhaps I overestimated your attachment to me."

"No," Claire contested, "I don't regret it, but I think that I'm entitled to mourn the loss of my brother."

"If staying with me is painful, why bother, dear heart?" Wesker honestly asked, and Claire humorlessly smiled.

"I told you that I love you," she said. "In many ways, you mean more in my life than Chris ever could." She adored when he caressed her face like he was doing now. He had been angry earlier, but know he seemed to understand the extent of his victory over Chris. She knew that he had immensely enjoyed rubbing Claire's love in Chris's face, because it had really been Chris's influence that he'd combated to win Claire over to his side. Now it was her conscience that stood between them—that and her lingering devotion to her brother's well being rather than his influence. She was beyond the point of being persuaded to feel differently than she did or to be ashamed of it.

"Thank you for not killing them," she thanked Wesker. "You could have pushed me aside and gone through with it."

"It would have served no purpose," he curtly replied. "I could have done no worse to Chris than you did by handing me the gun." The words stung, but Claire accepted them as true. "Their deaths are eventual, and be warned, dear heart: next time I won't be so lenient with either them or you. Chris won't stop until he's finished this or dead, and I won't let him interfere again, understood?"

"I understand," Claire answered. Suddenly her face paled, her hands went to her stomach, and she backed up against the wall for support. The pain had returned, and with a vengeance. Her swollen stomach began to expand, and an intense hunger overcame her system. She clenched her eyes shut and gasped as the baby dealt her a tremendous kick. If she looked down, she expected to see a tiny foot sticking out of her body.

"Is it the child?" Wesker sternly asked.

"Sometimes…it hurts," Claire confessed. "Making room…for its growth…sucks." The pain was stealing her breath away, and Wesker lifted and began carrying her toward a nearby room. He looked incredibly displeased with this turn of events, for now he had to find a safe place to store her until it was time to release the uroboros. Claire focused on suppressing the pain as he took her to a small, windowless room with several tables. Here she would be close to the plane so that he could simply grab her before take off.

He laid on her on a table and held her still until the pain passed. There was no equipment here to do anything else, but fortunately, Claire knew that she didn't need it. She panted and tried to relax in the aftermath of the pain, but her reprieve was short lived, for Wesker was sticking a needle into the crook of her arm. Her eyes snapped open in shock.

"What are you doing?" she demanded. He said that he'd take care of the child if it became dangerous. Was he injecting something that would abort the child? She reached out a hand to stop him, but Wesker caught her by the wrist and applied enough painful pressure that she stopped struggling.

"It's not dangerous to the pregnancy," he assured her. "It's for another reason entirely."

"Which is?" Claire testily asked, and Wesker chuckled.

"This isn't over, dear heart," he soothed, removing the needle and easing her back onto the tabletop. "Until it is, I daresay that I can't let you wander. Your continued interference would be most inconvenient, and based on our deal, you won't stop trying to save the world until my plan is complete." Claire tried to speak, but Wesker laid a finger against her lips. "It's not a lack of trust, Claire, because we've both been very frank with one another; it's simply a matter of tying up loose ends, one of which is your brother, without interference. I'll return shortly, and then, when the world is mine, you have a bargain to uphold."

"Albert," Claire angrily protested as she felt her system slowing down.

"It's in your best interest," Wesker smirked. "Goodbye, Claire." He left her on the table while he went to settle his work. Excella's role was almost finished, for he wasn't taking her onto the plane for the plan's final stage. She wanted power, and he didn't like to share it, so her expendability was rising with each passing moment, but it wasn't time yet. He had a final task for her since he didn't waste bodies. His phone vibrated, and he smiled. That would be Excella now, and he briskly answered the call.

"Your friends have arrived," she told him.

"Excellent," he sarcastically drawled. "Occupy them while I dispose of the remaining crew." Now that they were at sea, the crew was useless except as a corpse supply, and Wesker had plans for those corpses. Excella wouldn't be able to keep Chris and Sheva down with a few basic majini. No, they needed something more powerful to put the two in their graves, and Wesker had the perfect idea. The only thing that he needed now was a host.

***************

The door opened as Claire was trying to stand on legs of jello. Whatever Wesker had given her was extremely strong, and her weakened limbs begged to be set down and allowed to rest. Claire had no choice but to deny them their wish, for rest wasn't possible when the stakes surrounding inaction were high. She was a bit annoyed with Wesker for doing this to her, but this was an all or nothing battle. The door clicked shut behind her, and she assumed that it was Wesker returning to check on her status, even though he'd only left ten minutes ago.

"Albert, I'm going to kick you for this," she grumpily stated as she was forced to lean against the table for support. When he didn't respond, she grew even more annoyed. "Albert…" But she stopped. Something wasn't right as she sniffed the air. A strange scent had drifted into the room with the opening door, and the spicy smell was most definitely not Wesker. Who…?

"Having some problems, Miss Redfield?" The voice was smooth and venomous, and Claire spun as quickly as she could to face an Excella Gionne who sported a subtle but wicked smile. "Hmmm…you don't look well," she commented.

"What do you want, Excella?" Claire warily asked. That smirk and stride meant that she was here on business, and that she confident about fulfilling her task. With her body weakened, Claire's sense of insecurity and danger jumped tenfold. Blue and amber swirled together as Excella walked closer. There was a small, white case in the woman's hand that Claire decidedly did not like. What was this bitch planning?

"Not so cocky now, are we?" Excella taunted as Claire kept the table between them. She was in no position to fend off a woman her equal in size and weight. It had been a long time since she'd felt so vulnerable, and she scanned the room for a possible weapon. Her fists weren't feeling up to the task.

"It's a shame that Albert's so busy right now," Excella said with false pity. "He's ordered me to stop your brother, but he didn't say how. I'll need to make a new weapon to fulfill my orders." Claire narrowed her eyes as Excella placed the white container on a nearby table and opened its latch. "I brought something special to sedate you, but it appears that Albert has done the task for me."

"If you get any closer, I'll rip your eyes out," Claire growled, glaring at her opponent. "And if I don't kill you, he'll invent something worse." Excella laughed, shaking her head from side to side in amusement.

"Oh, you really think you're _that_ special?" she mockingly questioned. "Albert is all about his work—_our_ work. Do you honestly think that he cares about you? You were a weapon against Chris and nothing more. He'll get over the loss." Claire frowned at Excella's words, but not because she was worried about their validity. Wesker had invested too much in her and was too attached to her as the ideal partner to let her be taken away by a jealous assistant. What bothered her was that her body seemed to be growing weaker by the second, and she couldn't count on Wesker coming to save her in time.

"You're arrogant to think that Albert won't care," Claire stated.

"And why is that?" Excella purred with a deadly edge. "What is so special about you? You are nothing. I am the one who has dedicated her life to this project. You—you are just some girl playing with guns to save a damned world!"

"I've been with Wesker longer than you have," Claire spat. Excella's eyes narrowed considerably as she took in the new information. "And if you value your life, you're going to walk out of this room right now."

"No," Excella hissed, and she pulled a thick syringe from the white case. A strange, orange-brown liquid was inside of it, and Claire glared at the threatening needle. One hand moved to protectively cover her stomach. "Albert won't dispose of me," Excella confidently declared. "He's promised that we'll remake the world together!" Claire pitied Excella for having been promised such a thing, since she knew that Wesker was planning to remove the woman from the power equation. She wanted to make Excella see the potential end, but she doubted that the woman would listen.

"Albert's body is unstable," Excella was saying. "I prepare the solution for him, and without it, he'll die. I'm indispensable to his work." She took a step forward and Claire felt the baby kick. Her child. Excella would _not_ harm her child. A rage began to form in the depths of Claire's infected system. She could feel it coiling, fighting to reawaken her muscles. Nothing was going to threaten the life that she carried.

"Do you know what this is?" Excella asked Claire with a slight smile. She lovingly ran a finger up the side of the needle, her heels slowly continuing their advance. Claire backed up until her foot hit the wall. "This is an extraction from an uroboros. It's quite harmless now—unlike the matured specimens—but when injected into a host, it becomes active. It uses the host's body tissue to feed and grow into a new uroboros. It's fascinating really, but I won't bore you with details that you won't understand."

"What is the point of uroboros?" Claire sharply asked.

"Why, hasn't Albert told you?" Excella smiled, and Claire decided that it was the most unpleasant smile she'd ever seen. It spoke of ambition, lust, and anger. "Perhaps he doesn't care for you as much as he claims. What words did he whisper in your ears, huh?" Claire's eyes were drawn to Excella's elegant and exposed throat. She didn't know why her vision wandered there, but the aggression building inside of her was playing havoc with her senses. Everything was becoming sharper.

"Thanks to your friend, Jill, uroboros has been engineered so that certain genetic matches will survive exposure. Rather than mutation and death, they'll evolve into something greater. The world will be destroyed to rise again under new leadership and as a superior race. Everything will change." Claire's eyes widened. Excella couldn't be serious. Wesker was going after world domination and eradication? No wonder he hadn't told her about his plans. Claire would never choose to let something like this happen, and the resulting conflict of interest plunged her into turmoil. How was she going to help stop Wesker without losing him?

_Maybe he has to die._

The thought terrified her.

"You're going to see how uroboros works first hand," Excella stated as she drew closer. Claire's body automatically lowered into a defensive stance, and the rage inside of her snapped when she saw that needle rise in the air.

"Not one more step," she warned, and Excella actually paused. Claire's amber eyes gleamed dangerously, and her hands were carefully shielding her stomach. Maternal instincts were urging her to rip Excella apart, but she was too weak to take the offensive. The extent of her vulnerability became all too clear when Excella experimentally walked right up to Claire and grabbed her arm. She couldn't even successfully retract her limb, and pure panic set in as she saw the syringe getting closer.

"There's no point in struggling," Excella told he. "He used one of my recipes, and the sedative works wonders on the infected." _The child_. Claire yelled and lashed out, catching Excella off guard with her feeble lunge. The other woman deflected the blow, and Claire stumbled to the floor. She had to get out of the room and fast. Amber eyes searched for an escape at the same time that her senses drew her back toward Excella's throat. If she got closer, she could get to the pumping blood that was mesmerizing her. _Kill. The child_. It was like being back at the governmental lab, when her instincts had utterly taken over her body. This time, as Excella knelt to inject her, she didn't even fight the tide of emotion. She wasn't just fighting for herself anymore.


	21. Chapter 21: Adrenaline

Chapter 21: Adrenaline

The crew was dead, and the bodies lay in a pile of dangling limbs and bloody clothing. It had been a simple task to dispose of them. Wesker simply ordered them to gather in one of the ship's gigantic cargo holds, and then he'd locked the doors. A single metal crate still sat at the room's center, now empty, but it had held a tyrant. Wesker had personally disposed of the creature once its task was complete, and now its corpse lay on the pile with its victims.

Wesker stared at the results of his work and felt nothing, not even a tinge of guilt for having caused so much death and destruction. Humans killed each other off every day, and for the pettiest reasons. People were selfish by nature, and they took advantage of each other in every way possible. If they fell to superior cunning, that was their problem, for the strong always dominated the weak. It was the way of the world, and Wesker at least had a vision when he caused destruction—unlike so many. He killed for a reason, and he hadn't felt sorry for ruthlessly pursuing his dreams in decades. He had been hardened and even bred to produce impressive results.

He would change this world. He could not have imagined that he'd come this far in his plans, but here he was, the inhuman creation, and there they were, the common humans. Nothing in life was sacred, and mankind had a way of feeding on itself, chewing and spitting out its own flesh. No, there was nothing particularly redeeming about humans to suggest that he should feel sorry for his actions, and his desire to become more powerful was far more important to him than ethics or morals. Perhaps there were some genuinely 'good' people, but they were a minority, and they tended to lose. If goodness meant weakness, he wanted nothing to do with it. Wesker did, however, acknowledge that moral concerns didn't mean weakness for everyone. He'd long known that Claire drew her greatest strength from caring about others and the world.

He leaned against the railing and stared at the pile of corpses and thought of how she'd react to this. She'd wonder if these men had families, if they kissed their children goodnight, if they had thought about what they were leaving behind before dying. Ah, his sentimental, hopeful, compassionate Claire. He knew that as much as he understood her mental processes, he would never be able to do so from personal experience. He sometimes wondered if the ability to do so had been bred out of him, but that would be too easy an explanation. He might have been a very different man if he'd stayed with Matthews and never gone to Umbrella, but the issue was neither here nor there. He was honestly indifferent to his own behavior and pragmatism. The carnage before him was merely a technical detail that didn't matter in the grand scheme of things.

He wondered if Claire was having any luck walking around—probably not. He'd given her a powerful sedative, although she would fight it. He smirked. Yes, she would fight it, like she always did. She was a strong woman, and she was his. Those compassionate eyes would seek out his and reach for him, even when he kept his face a mask, and she would wrap her arms around him despite the blood on his hands. He'd become what most people considered irredeemable, but the worse things became, the more Claire seemed to gravitate toward him. She always cared, and she always did the little things for him, like that time where she'd wordlessly taken his sunglasses, cleaned them, and put them back on his face. It was forbidden, but she made it look so effortless to break such rules, and the red of his eyes only attracted her.

It was good to have her here. He'd forgotten what it was like to have someone touch him and want him like she did. Had she actually been worried that his childhood bothered him? It was foolish, and Wesker had inwardly mocked her, but he didn't mind knowing how much she cared. The question was: how far did that devotion stretch?

_Please_. Her words sounded so crisp and emotional in his mind. Wesker could imagine the feel of the gun against his forehead, and he recalled his surprise at her actions. He had not expected her to violently resist him, and he'd initially been furious. He was not a trusting man, and had he not known Claire as well as he did, he would have broken her in two right then and there; however, he understood the contradictory nature of her actions. Her heart still belonged to him, and she wouldn't optionally choose to harm him, but nor had her surrender to him ever signaled weakness or submissiveness. If it had, he would have dismissed her as a pathetic and ignorant woman in her attachment to him. With Claire, there was an informed depth to her dedication that made their bond mean something to him.

Yes, Wesker had forgiven Claire for her gun display, but he hadn't let her win. In the end, he had turned it to his advantage like everything else. Killing Chris at that moment might have broken her, or at least made her rethink staying with him. Sure, he could lure her back, but if the hassle was unnecessary, he didn't want to bother with it. There was also the matter that he'd wanted to see if she was ready to admit her relationship with him before her friends. She hadn't disappointed, and he'd inwardly beamed with victory when she handed him the gun. It sealed the deal like nothing else had in his mind, because it was tangible. Words didn't mean anything if actions didn't reflect them, and Claire had now publicly branded herself with his mark. Satisfaction was an understatement.

_I love you_. Those words that she sometimes whispered in his ear…he wondered how genuine they were, but that was an idiotic concern. Claire spoke with conviction when she said them, and while Wesker would never say them back, he liked receiving them. She would suffer for him. What a strange notion, that someone would choose to put herself through pain if loving him required it. He doubted the extent of such a commitment, yet Claire had given him no reason to disbelieve her intent. Intent, but when things really became difficult, would she remain true to her words? He did not trust this idea of love, even if she honestly claimed it as hers. Yes, he trusted her more than anyone else, but he still didn't let his guard crumble. Having faith in an emotional concept was incomprehensible to him, even if he'd seen its expression through his unlikely companion.

The ultimate test was fast approaching. He did not believe it humanly possible for a bond like theirs to remain unscathed through such a torrent of conflicting ideals, but he inwardly hoped that Claire would prove him wrong. He would keep her, and that meant sedating her so that she could not hinder him or force his hand against her or the child. She was too determined to let loose around his plans. No, he didn't completely trust her. He couldn't, but he didn't want to lose her either. In this final test, she would play witness to suffering, because he didn't want her to carry a false image of him—as if she ever had, he smirked. She was always aware of his personality and dark deeds, but when the moment came, he would thrust the weight of it upon her. She would forsake him, never completely reopen to him, or still pass him a cup of hot chocolate.

Had he partly sedated her because he worried that she might forsake him if she saw too much too soon? Like the death of Chris? He considered such an option. Perhaps there was a dual motive to his restraints on her, because he really did doubt that their bond would remain if she saw _everything_. So unique and beautiful…this final test had to be done carefully. He was a crafty man, and he would manipulate what she saw and under what circumstances and explanations in order to best assure that she stayed bound to him. Love could not possibly be left to serve a similar purpose on its own. It was simply too implausible to a man like Wesker.

He strode away from the cargo hold and toward central control. He wondered how Excella was occupying Chris and Sheva. There wasn't much time before takeoff. He would remove Chris and in all likelihood, Excella, for he already knew that she wasn't compatible with uroboros anyway. She wasn't one of the chosen, and he again considered using her as a host to leave as Chris's present. It seemed a fitting choice, but first he had to find her.

Wesker dialed her number and waited for her to pick up the phone, but no one answered. That was highly unusual. Could Chris have already done something to her? No, they couldn't have advanced through the ship that quickly, and he had left a few surprises for them. He dialed the number again, and this time he could tell that someone had accepted the call, but the only sound was muffled yelling and loud thumping.

"Report," Wesker ordered. What the hell was Excella doing?

"Bitch!" Excella exclaimed. She had better not be saying that to him, Wesker darkly thought. Sometimes Excella walked dangerously close to the line of acceptable respect. Then someone yelled in the background, and it wasn't Excella. Wesker's pace slowed, and his mouth pressed into a thin line. That had been Claire. What was Miss Gionne doing defying his orders and visiting Claire? He slammed the phone shut and began walking in the opposite direction. He had left Claire in a disabled state, and if Excella was in that room with her, nothing good could come of it. If the woman did anything to Claire or the baby, she was going to beg him for mercy by the time he was done punishing her.

*****************

"You bit me!" Excella yelped, holding a hand to her neck. She had been closing in on Claire for the injection, and Claire had seemed quite helplessly submissive about it. Then, as Excella bent over her, Claire had surged upward and sunk her teeth into a vulnerable neck. The redhead was too weak to take flesh with her, but she had managed minor penetration, and the wound hurt like hell. Excella stood back, thankful that Claire had missed anything vital, and staunching the small flow of blood with a tissue. Had Claire not been sedated, she'd be bleeding to death.

"You'll pay for this," Excella promised, wondering if she'd be left with a scar. She'd always loved her neck and considered it one of her most alluring assets.

"Stay the hell away," Claire growled, still on the floor and backing away. She was crouched with her knees pulled in front of her to block her stomach. The baby wouldn't stop twisting about and gently pressing against her, as if stressed. _It's okay_, Claire mentally told the child. _I'm keeping her away_. But the child still anxiously moved, and Claire could do nothing to calm it. She wasn't very calm herself.

_Ring. _

Excella and Claire both stared at the cell phone that sat beside the white syringe case. It was glowing and begging to be answered. Maybe it was Wesker.

"Albert," Claire breathed in relief, and she moved as quickly as her sluggish body would allow. Her fingers wrapped around the black phone, but perfectly manicured ones followed behind hers, and the pristine nails painfully dug into her skin. Claire grunted and ignored the burn as she lifted the phone, but Excella yanked it away from her. It left their grasps and slid across the floor, and Claire desperately dove after it. She had to get that phone. It might be her only chance at safe escape.

As she crawled toward it, she heard Excella's heels clicking closer behind her.

"Ah, looks like you're too weak to make it," she taunted, easily walking pass Claire and picking up the phone. It had stopped ringing. "Too bad," Excella faked a pout. "I guess you're still all alone." Claire glared death at her as she collapsed onto the floor, her bulging stomach pressing uncomfortably against the tiles. _Sorry_, she apologized to the baby her squashing its home, and the baby pressed against her in an almost comforting manner.

_Ring. _

Claire's eyes jerked upward to Excella, and she wanted nothing more than to wipe that smug smile off of the woman's face. Her adrenaline was fading after expending it on the biting attack and diving for the phone. It had literally taken all of her energy to accomplish those feats in her current state, and her body wouldn't handle much more, even as her feral, amber eyes gleamed with malice. She would never stop fighting. If she was going to be destroyed by uroboros, she wasn't going to die peacefully. She'd never give Excella the satisfaction. Perhaps there was enough energy for one last push…

"Hel—" Excella began as she answered the phone, but then a hand grabbed her ankle. She looked down in horror as Claire prepared to sink teeth into her calf, and that would hurt like hell _and_ do damage. If she were injured on the floor, she would be on a more equal playing field with her opponent.

"Bitch!" Excella yelled, delivering a vicious kick to Claire's chest while dropping the phone. The point of the stiletto dug into Claire's skin, and the blow made her roll onto her back, exposing her stomach. _No, no, no! _Her hands went to cover the child as Excella delivered another kick to her, this time in the side, and dangerously close to the child. Claire hoped that the baby's viral body was as resilient as her own, but maybe the sedative had also hampered healing. Certainly these kicks were more painful than they should have been.

The next kick made Claire yell, but mostly in anger rather than hurt. Excella had forgotten the open phone on the floor where it had fallen, and she planted a knee on Claire's chest to keep her still while she grabbed a struggling arm.

"No more wasted time!" Excella huffed. This was it. Claire watched in horror as the syringe shot toward her arm. There was absolutely nothing she could do to stop it. Both her and her child were going to die and be used to kill Chris. It was the cruelest fate of all. The needle pressed against her skin, the point sharp. Claire inhaled, and Excella smiled. The door to the room burst open.


	22. Chapter 22: Repercussions

Chapter 22: Repercussions

Claire didn't even register that the door had been slammed open. The needle breaking her skin was her sole focus, and in that moment she was sure that she was going to die. The thought was sobering and infuriating, for she didn't want to die like this. She'd survived outbreaks, infiltrated Umbrella bases, fought off assassins, and battled the infected with nothing but her bare fists. During those events she had accepted the possibility of death, but to be killed by a jealous woman while lying helplessly on the floor…Claire had never prepared herself for such an end or the loss of a child, and she hated to think that this was the conclusion of her life.

The needle penetrated further into her flesh.

This really was the end, wasn't it? Damn Excella for doing this to her.

"Enough!" The sharp, deep voice sliced the air, and a presence powerful enough to command the earth to stop spinning descended upon the room. It could have been the voice of Hades coming to call. Hell, it could have been death himself, and in the background the squeaky hinge of the door swinging back and forth. Of course, Claire only subconsciously noted the voice's qualities, but even in her distracted position, it sent chills down her spine.

She blinked. One moment Excella was smugly pushing the needle into her arm, and the next, the woman was slammed up against the wall, Wesker's fingers wrapped around her throat. Excella's legs kicked, the tips of her stilettos barely grazing the floor, and she gasped for air while her hands tried to dislodge the man for whom she'd been about to kill. For a second, Claire just watched Excella struggle against Wesker's wrath. His face was stern and merciless, with every muscle seemingly tensed, but it was his eyes that truly gave away his emotions. The red centers blazed as if they could consume Excella with a mere stare, and as Excella tried to speak, his lips twisted into a vicious sneer.

Claire had never seen him so angry, and she never wanted to see it again. Once was enough, and finding mercy on a face like that was beyond impossible. She scooted into a sitting position and yanked the syringe from her arm. None of the uroboros extraction had been injected, and so she was safe. _We're safe_, she mentally corrected. Her hands roamed over her stomach, and she pressed inward toward the baby, waiting for the normal response.

Nothing, and time seemed to enter a standstill. Nothing was pushing back against Claire's hand. _Not the baby, please_. Excella _had_ kicked her rather hard.

"Albert…" Excella gasped, pleading. Her face was tightened in pain, for his fingers were digging into her flesh, one right against her bite wound.

"Were my instructions not clear?" Wesker demanded, and his tone betrayed nothing but coldness. "I told you not to involve yourself with Miss Redfield." Claire heard them speaking, but she was too busy holding her stomach to care. Her eyes were watering as she kept pressing into her pregnancy. Why was there no response? Why? A few tears began to fall.

"I..." Excella tried to speak.

"How pitiful," Wesker venomously sneered as he dropped her. Excella hit the floor and clung to the wall while heaving for air. She glanced at him, one hand clutching her throat, and was seized again. Wesker yanked her forward by the chin, and Excella's eyes widened. She did not easily show fear, but controlling it right now was proving difficult. "You do not touch, Claire," Wesker ground out, voice back to a carefully controlled level. "You think too much of yourself, Excella. Did you honestly plan to gain from her death?"

"She is a threat," Excella forcefully stated, and Wesker gripped her face so tightly that she thought her bones might shatter.

"Your excuses are as weak as your attempts at seduction," Wesker told her. "_I_ will decide what role you play, just as I always have. And _I_ will decide what happens to whom. Is. That. Clear?" Claire didn't even watch him release Excella, who fumbled backwards, trying unsuccessfully to regain dignity. Whatever. It didn't matter. The baby wasn't responding. Had she lost it? Claire was crying now, but without a sound.

"My apologies, Albert," Excella said, straightening. "You are in charge. I mistook our guest as an enemy and thought to save us a hassle. Obviously you weren't only using her to taunt Chris. You might have explained that earlier."

"I don't need to explain myself to you," Wesker stated.

"We're partners," Excella argued. They had always shared reasons and intentions with one another before. "I expect to be included in important decisions. And speaking of issues of importance, you'll need another injection within a few hours." They stared at each other, both wondering whether the other would try anything dangerous. Their alliance was being strained to the point of breaking since Claire's attack. Excella could almost hear the truce between her and Wesker ripping in two, and so she was frantically calculating and trying to recover from this failed plan.

"Meet me on C3 in ten minutes," Wesker roughly ordered her. "Bring the treatments, and see that you don't get sidetracked."

"And Chris?" Excella questioned.

"I'll handle it," Wesker assured. Excella narrowed her eyes at him in suspicion. "You are still useful, Excella," he told her. "And you have one, final task to complete on our project." Excella managed a thin smile, for she assumed that he was talking about deploying the uroboros. She was too valuable to kill for causing trouble with Claire. "Our work is almost finished," Wesker stated. "You should be proud, but there will not be another incident like this one, ever."

"Of course," Excella seemingly dismissed. "If you'd said that from the beginning, we'd have no problems. Ten minutes." Claire couldn't believe that Wesker was just letting Excella leave, but right now, her focus was the child. Chris could have walked into the room and shot Excella, and she'd still be crying with worry over the baby. If the child was dead…Claire surged to her feet in a fit of grief and charged at Excella. Taken aback, Excella raised her arms to fend off an attack, but Wesker seized Claire and pinned her arms flat against her sides before she reached the other woman.

"Let me go!" Claire yelled, eyes red-rimmed from tears. Excella huffed in indignation.

"I'll leave you to deal with your pet," she purred and walked out the door, anxious to be gone and let Wesker recover from his anger. Claire watched her retreating back with the utmost loathing and sorrow.

"She…she," Claire struggled.

"Dear heart," Wesker soothed, pulling her flush against him.

"She…how can you just let her go?" Claire demanded. The two were alone as Wesker brought his mouth to her ear.

"Miss Gionne's minutes are numbered, but I won't waste her death." Claire sighed and clenched her fists. "I've never settled for short term gratification, but don't worry. Her actions have helped me reach an important decision." His words dripped with dark assurance, and Claire so knew that he wasn't anywhere near forgiving Excella's transgression against him. She'd both gone behind his back, and had attacked his second most prized possession. If he held a grudge against Chris for foiling his plans in Raccoon City, she couldn't imagine what Excella had gotten herself into; however, leave it to Wesker to opt for rational disposal rather than personal wrath. He was controlled and reasonable like that, although Claire could have sworn that he'd break Excella's body several minutes ago.

"You're unharmed," Wesker continued. "So I must be going."

"But she kicked the baby…almost, maybe," Claire quietly said, hating the words as she spoke them.

"She what?" Wesker darkly questioned, his controlled anger again peaking through the cracks right when he'd almost cooled it. His hands found Claire's stomach.

"I don't know if she hurt him or not," Claire said. Wesker gently pressed against her, but there was no response, and the reminder of the possible loss made more tears escape Claire's eyes. "I can't feel…" But Wesker moved his hands some more, and finally Claire felt something weak pressed against his palm. It was feeble, but it was there. Her eyes brightened, and soon her hands were moving alongside Wesker's. Another soft kick told her that the baby was at least alive. She had never felt so relieved in her life, and then the protective anger returned.

"Screw your plans," Claire hissed. "I'm going to kill that woman." She tried to pull away, but Wesker effortlessly detained her.

"I will handle it," he said. "Stay here and recover from the sedative."

"Screw your sedative too," Claire grumbled.

"Dear heart, what Excella did was quite natural given her ambitions. And I give you my apologies for making you vulnerable. I should have foreseen this. She is every bit the type of person that I'm used to patterning with, but I miscalculated how threatened she felt by your presence." Claire stopped struggling, and she allowed Wesker to guide her to a chair.

"She could have killed our baby," Claire numbly said.

"Yes, but you won't have to worry about her any longer." Claire looked at him as he put on his sunglasses. "Stay here. I'm going to have a little chat with Miss Gionne."

**********

Excella warily watched Wesker coming down the hallway. Her guard was up, for she knew that she'd angered him, but she'd never counted on him caring so much about his little Redfield. She hadn't expected him to take the woman's possible loss so heavily. Again, that sharp pang of jealousy hit her. What was going on between those two? She watched Wesker striding forward in his sleek, confidant manner, and she saw a goldmine of opportunity in a handsome package. His vision was beyond what she'd imagined possible, and with him, the power to accomplish that vision was at hand. Yes, he was a fascinating man, and he was good for her position, but a man like Wesker did not impractically attach himself to anyone. The thought of him being angrily protective of Claire baffled Excella.

The amber eyes, she recalled. Claire was something like Wesker, and suddenly Excella's jealousy level spiked. So the little, redheaded bitch was genetically gifted. Was that it? Excella was a mere human, and so was she unworthy of being touched by a superior being like Wesker? The thought made her blood boil, for she'd long been hoping to ascend to his genetic level. It was her ultimate goal, because she didn't intend to play second to him forever. In the beginning, he had approached her as an equal, but now she recognized it as a façade. And those tender touches and promises of power? Lies. Oh, he played the game like she did, but she _did_ want him.

"Did you bring it?" Wesker asked her as he approached. She lifted the briefcase in her hand.

"Of course." She wanted to dig her shiny nails into his skin for siding with Claire, but she had to remain on his good side for now. That was her general policy, but now she applied it without the smart comments or questions that signaled an equal playing field. He could kill her for what she'd done, especially since he'd killed others for lesser reasons. She had to be careful, and she'd brought extra syringes with her for that very reason. She knew how to poison the mighty Wesker. A mere woman could bring him down if given the chance.

"Shall we begin?" she asked him, and he extended his arm.

"Yes." She injected him while Wesker carefully watched her. Excella knew that he was studying her, and she blatantly stared back. _Caution_, she reminded herself. She might be his equal, but she couldn't flaunt it given his residual anger.

"What will you do with Redfield?" she asked.

"Which one are you referring to?" Wesker asked, knowing that Excella was phrasing her question for deniability. The crafty woman knew that mentioning Claire right now would be foolish, but Excella waved a hand in the air as if it were nothing.

"I mean Christopher," she stated. "What you choose to do with the other Redfield is your own concern, although I will ask if she is coming with us." Why was he protective of that woman? He had reacted like Claire meant something to him. Excella had only been teasing him about loving his captive before, but now, for a moment she dwelled on that possibility, but Wesker did not love. They were alike in that regard, except that Excella did not love out of survival instincts rather than a lack of desire. She secretly yearned to have someone at her side who cherished her, and who she could admire in return. Perhaps in another lifetime, but not this world. She had uroboros here.

"Miss Redfield is coming with me," Wesker told her, and the lack of an 'us' in that statement put Excella on her guard. She pulled an extra syringe from her case and began twiddling it between her fingers.

"You never answered my question," she pointed out. She knew that Wesker noticed the syringe and caught her drift, but he didn't move a muscle. "You never said whether you had decided if I was worthy to be at your side or not. I'm insulted that you're taking so long." She couldn't prevent a slightly bitter edge from creeping into her voice, and Wesker smirked in response.

"You are letting your emotions get the better of you, Excella," he mocked. "I wouldn't have thought a woman like you capable of that." She glared at him, and he still wore that damned smirk.

"You have emotions too," Excella stated. "You were not so passive several minutes ago." Taunting him was not going to help the situation, but Excella could not bring herself to believe that she was another Irving. She was gorgeous and talented, useful and ambitious. She had annoyed and challenged Wesker before, and he'd always gotten over it, and why? Because she was good at what she did. They were partners, and she was made for this type of work. He knew it, and she knew it. Unfortunately, she forgot that even Umbrella had killed its top researchers, because no matter how good they were, they became expendable at some point.

"Tell me, fair lady," Wesker said. "Are you jealous of Claire?"

"Jealous?" Excella scoffed. "Of her? No. But tell me, did you promise her the world too?" Wesker smirked.

"No," and Excella was secretly relieved. "I said that we would change this world together, didn't I?" he softly asked her, touching her cheek like he once had. Excella's fingers loosened on the syringe that she held. "The world will change, and because of our work." Yes. This was what Excella wanted to hear. "I chose you because you're what this project required." His fingers traced her jaw line, and she loved every minute of it.

"The world will be ours, like you promised," she purred. Wesker smirked and moved his lips close to hers. She could see the red behind the sunglasses as she congratulated herself. She had known that he couldn't actually care for Claire. It was so unlike him. She and Wesker were much more suited to each other, because neither of them believed in loved. They were two parasites feeding off of each other, and that worked for people like them.

"Now, now, fair lady," Wesker said, his breath tickling her lips. "When did I ever say that the world would be ours?" What? Her eyes flashed toward his in question. "If I recall correctly, I said that we'd change the world." His fingers wrapped around the syringe in her hand, ending any chance of her using it against him.

"Together!" Excella exclaimed. "You said together."

"Yes," Wesker agreed. "And we will. Your work on uroboros was indispensible, and so your work, our work, will do the changing. You simply won't be around the see the end results." No. Something painful jabbed into the side of her neck, and she realized too late what had happened. The deadly liquid was already in her veins.

"Uroboros," she gasped.

"Correct," Wesker said, tossing the empty syringe aside. "This is farewell for us." The pain in Excella's body began almost immediately.

"Albert!" she cried. This wasn't supposed to happen. The pain, the humiliation! She knelt on the ground and looked up at Wesker who expressionlessly watched her as she suffered. "I helped you!" Excella cursed him. She couldn't believe what was happening.

"You should have seen this coming, Excella," Wesker remorselessly told her. "And your stunt with Miss Redfield sealed the deal." He knelt over her writhing form. "You asked me if you were worthy," he mocking reminded her, and Excella's eyes widened in terror. "Well, here's your chance to find out." And he left her there, already knowing that her genetics were completely unworthy of uroboros.


	23. Chapter 23: A Grand Scheme, but

Here it is! We're getting toward the end here, and thanks for all the reviews. You are all awesome, and don't worry: Jill still has a big role to play. I haven't forgotten about her. Also, I'm so pleased that Excella's death was such a big hit!

_____________________

Chapter 23: A Grand Scheme

"Ah, Chris, how nice of you to join us." Wesker's smooth, baiting voice sounded across the intercom system, and Claire froze. She was in the process of exploring her surroundings, but at a very slow pace given the sedative. With one hand against the wall, she wandered, searching for Wesker or Chris. She couldn't sit and wait for Wesker to return. She was restless in such a position, and now that she knew Chris was here, she was further agitated. If she found him first, what was she going to say to him? If she found Wesker instead, where was he planning to take her?

_Uroboros_. The word rang as a curse through her head. Infect the world; change the world, but Excella said that most people were not genetically compatible, so the casualties would be high. Good lord, but Claire wanted this to be over. She wanted Wesker, whose creamy voice was still broadcasting taunts at her brother, to stop and let go of his ambitions; however, what would Wesker be without sweeping ambitions? Could he even let go of them if he wanted to? Claire didn't want to go there, because she couldn't imagine Wesker without his focused drive, and the implications of an honest answer to her own questions troubled her.

Wesker without ambition wasn't really Wesker at all. Relaxing his goals would require a major change in his worldview, and he had no interest in doing so. Basically, he would never optionally relent, so there was no stopping him—no convincing him to let go. The world wasn't safe with him in it, buthis threat didn't extend to everyone. No, it certainly didn't, and that's what Claire held onto to. Wesker would keep their child safe. Too bad that he was going about it in a way that she couldn't condone.

A new world of the infected, Claire mused. It was a terrible possibility, but she also recognized that it would be a world where she belonged. Her child would be accepted as normal, and he'd never have to hide his abilities. He wouldn't carry an extra pair of sunglasses to shield unnatural eyes, and nor would she. It was a pleasant image, but if Wesker won, where would his ambitions go next? He wasn't a man who she saw settling down to peacefully live out his accomplishment. Claire didn't understand exactly where she was trying to go with these thoughts, but she'd rather have her child carry sunglasses than see billions die for her family's security. To act otherwise would be unfair to all the other mothers out there, who loved their children as much as Claire did hers.

Could Wesker ever be content? The thought hounded her. If the answer was yes, there was more hope than she already held. And Claire always had hope that what seemed right would prevail, for her life was predicated on it. There was, however, a side of her that would not be sorry if Wesker won, and she recognized this darker aspect and forced herself to admit: if he won, she would be fully capable of forgiving him. She didn't want him to win, but their carefree child and the warmth of his arms would make her accept what he'd done. There was no other option, because as much as she dreaded the death of others, as a mother, she couldn't hate a father for creating an accepting world for his son. In some respects, it was much more fatherly than she would have given Wesker credit for. _You'll be in a position to have a family. _Yes, she would eventually forgive him for everything, but that need had not yet arisen.

Wesker was saying something about Excella now. Claire paid attention to his words. A last task? If it was her last, that meant that Excella was either dying or would be soon. Good riddance. Claire would not miss the woman, but she still found it in her to pray that Excella's pain was not extended for too long a time. Torture bothered Claire to no end, no matter the recipient.

She pushed open a door and walked into a hangar of sorts. A large, black plane sat at the far end of the room, and she studied its sleek frame. What was that here for? Since it was here and black like everything else that Wesker chose for transportation, there was a reason for it. Claire decided to investigate and was forced to take a ladder down to the plane's level. Jumping from the platform would have been easier, but it didn't seem wise in her current state. So she moved hand over hand while her limbs ached. Climbing down was a tiring process, and when she finally reached the floor, she was near collapse. Damn that sedative for taking so long to wear off!

"Didn't Albert say something about taking us somewhere?" she asked aloud. The baby lightly kicked, and Claire smiled. "Yeah, I know you're excited about dad." Her smile quickly saddened as she touched one of the plane's wheels. "Let's hope that you have an uncle when this is over too. Chris would make a great uncle…_if_ he ever forgives me." She sighed and continued to explore, looking for a way to board the aircraft. She could smell something near its cargo hold, and she instinctively frowned. It smelled like one of those worms. Was that worm that had infected the stray dog an uroboros? She'd never actually seen a matured specimen.

Feeling exhausted, she decided to sit beneath one of the plane's wings to rest. The intercom had gone silent, and she wondered what that meant. Were Chris and Wesker fighting? She had the urge to find them, but looking back at the ladders, she doubted whether going up would be as easy as coming down, and the pregnancy wasn't helping. The kid was taking a lot of energy to make, but Wesker was demanding, so it seemed appropriate that the baby be a handful.

"Make it out alive, Chris," Claire quietly willed. "Find and destroy uroboros." _But not Albert—never that_. Would Wesker stop if defeated this time?—probably not, but she willed it to be so. _Don't be foolish and paint him as something he isn't, Claire_. But how could she not be a little foolish? Damn. These questions had to stop until she found out what was transpiring on this ship. But maybe…the crack in her heart widened. Maybe she was subconsciously preparing herself to let go of Wesker with these thoughts.

No.

Maybe.

Damn it all to hell, she decided. She was never letting go, not until he was forcefully taken from her, and even then, recovery seemed impossible. Her and the child would be alone in a world that didn't want their kind. With Wesker at her side, she could forget about that, for he made her feel accepted, and so the child would grow up seeing someone utterly comfortable with being nonhuman. Another male couldn't fill in as a father in Wesker's stead, even if Claire had wanted it, because the replacement would never fully understand her condition. _And you would never want another man in the same way as Wesker either_, she added. Then she pictured herself with a child in her arms. He had blond hair and red eyes, but a warm smile like hers, and she just knew that not having Wesker in the picture was wrong. But if he would teach the child to use people as he did…

************

"Chris, Sheva!" Jill called. "Can you hear me?" Chris touched his earpiece and looked at Sheva, who was staring at the mess that had been Excella. The poor woman had never seen her end coming, and that had been pure ignorance for such a smart scientist. Chris shook his head and remembered her final words before transforming: _Damn you, Albert! How could you replace me with her! Why is she so special? Why protect her and not me? _Chris marveled at her jealous tirade. Wesker protecting Claire? He held as many questions as Excella had before she died, but there were still no answers. He hadn't imagined that Wesker would ever protect his sister from anything, but according to Excella, he had.

"Chris!" Jill insisted.

"I hear you," he answered.

"I have some information that might help you."

"We'll take anything that we can get," Sheva sounded.

"Wesker isn't invincible," Jill stated. "He may be powerful, but his body is unstable. Excella used to inject him with a serum that balanced his system, but if administered in an excessive dosage, it acts as a poison. She mentioned it once when telling Wesker about her research."

"I don't suppose that these are what we're looking for…" Sheva was holding a metal briefcase. "Excella was holding it before she turned." Chris joined Sheva, and they opened the case together. Inside sat a neat row of filled syringes.

"Is the serum sort of purple?" Chris asked. The transmission buzzed with static for a moment before Jill 's voice returned.

"Yes!" she excitedly answered. "You'll need it to get the upper hand on Wesker. Otherwise, he's too strong. Even I was no match for him when I was superhuman." This was the break that Chris had been waiting for.

"It's worth a shot," he stated. "Thanks, Jill. If you remember anything else, give us a call." He smiled at his old partner's recovery time. She was still the best and it showed. Minutes after having a poisonous system ripped out of her chest, Jill was back to work in the most useful way. Chris adored her beyond belief.

"There's something else," Jill continued. "I don't know if it matters or not, but it might help you in some way."

"Yeah?" Chris eagerly asked. Any tip was a good tip right now.

"Wesker won't easily let Claire go. This isn't a matter of you rescuing her and he just won't care. He once told me that he has plans for Claire and that she would eventually see the new world as better than the old. For reasons that I don't think any of us fully understand, he won't willingly leave her behind. That much I've learned from listening to them talk about each other." Chris frowned.

"Are you saying that if we can get Claire, we might be able to force Wesker into a fight?"

"And close enough to use the syringe," Sheva approved. Chris was less enthused about the whole idea, but he logged Jill's information away just in case. After all, they were worried that Wesker would escape and execute his plans rather than waste time with a confrontation. That would doom their cause, and if using his sister as a hostage worked...

"Alright, thanks," he told Jill. "We've got to move."

"After you," Sheva offered. They were racing against time.

************

"You two are beginning to annoy me," drawled an impatient voice.

"Albert," Claire automatically stated from where she stood in the shadows of the plane's underbelly. She deserted her inner debates to stare at her love. She could see him at the opposite side of the room, standing with his hands against the railing.

"We won't let you win, Wesker!" _Chris is here_, and Claire gratefully noted that he seemed unharmed. He and Sheva were entering the room behind Wesker, although Claire could barely see them at her angle. She didn't need anyone to tell her that this was going to be oh so very bad. Her hearing could pick up the conversation between Chris and Wesker, but only barely. The words were rough and demanding, and determination was rising on both sides. It wouldn't be much longer…

Wesker threw his sunglasses at Chris. There was a dispersion of air, and the crack of a bullet. _And so it starts_. One moment Wesker, Sheva, and Chris were talking, and the next Wesker was twisting Sheva around to use as a human shield against Chris's pistol.

_Shit_. Claire was unsure what to do. She didn't know what she _could_ do with her weakened body. She would never make it up those ladders. As it was, she was forced to sit back down because of unstable footing, even as she yearned to be involved in the action. Did Wesker even know that she was here? An ignored bystander—now there was something that could drive Claire insane.

"What are you planning, Wesker?" Chris demanded.

"Uroboros will be released into the atmosphere and cleanse this entire, overpopulated planet," Wesker sneered. "Only the chosen will survive as the beginning of a new, superior race. You object out of fear, Christopher, not insight. I'm doing this pathetic, self-serving race a favor."

"Oh yeah, a rebirth Wesker, and don't tell me; you'll be the godlike ruler," Chris scornfully spat.

"You can't be serious!" Sheva added as Wesker began to choke her.

"I assure you that I am," Wesker harshly spoke into her ear. "I'm only accelerating the evolutionary process to new heights. If you're lucky, maybe you'll survive." He threw her, and Claire watched in horror as Sheva nearly tumbled from the platform. Her human body would never survive such a fall, but Claire was horrified for other reasons as well. Wesker's plans really were as drastic as Excella had claimed. It was hard to believe that he was actually capable of making good on his proclamations, but Umbrella's work had always pushed the boundaries of what Claire thought possible.

Wesker was jumping down to her level now, completely bypassing the ladders. He was still some distance away, but Claire instinctively knew that he had noticed her. She could feel his red eyes taking in her appearance, trailing over her position and waiting to see if she was going to sit there while the fighting commenced. He probably knew that she'd gone missing from her designated room, for he didn't seem surprised at her presence in the least.

"Wesker, you're not escaping!" Chris yelled, interrupting their interlude. He was climbing down the ladder with Sheva hot on his heels.

"You're going to force me to kill you," Wesker smirked. "Although I'm not complaining. I have some spare time since I no longer need to escort anyone." _He's talking about me_, Claire realized. She tried to stand and found that her feet could now support her, although she needed to take it slow. "Say, Chris," Wesker continued speaking. "Do you think that you could be one of the chosen?" He was making fun of Chris, and Claire knew that her brother was bristling even though she couldn't make out his face.

"It won't matter, because you'll lose," Chris firmly claimed, gun firing at Wesker, who easily dodged the bullets. Wesker chuckled.

"You _would_ say that." A game of cat and mouse commenced, with Sheva and Chris working together to find an opening on Wesker. Chris would hide and try to sneak up behind Wesker for a clear shot while he was busy with Sheva, but Wesker's reaction time was simply too fast, and he was figuring out their fighting pattern.

"There's a rocket launcher!" Sheva excitedly told Chris through his earpiece.

"Try to get it!" Chris yelled back.

"You can't run forever, Chris," Wesker drawled, calmly searching for his enemy's latest location, and Claire watched it all. The plane, she realized while they were busy. Wesker was deploying uroboros into the atmosphere, so they had to be on the plane. That was why she had smelled them earlier.

She looked at Wesker and then to where she knew Chris was crouching. Wesker was closing in on Sheva, who'd exposed herself to throw Chris a rocket launcher, and overall, the situation was not looking good; however, the three of them were immersed in their deadly game to Claire's benefit. She could finish this if she destroyed the uroboros while everyone were preoccupied. Then…then…hell, she didn't know. Her mind was working in overdrive, and she definitely didn't have time to think everything through. The thought of mothers across the world morning for their dead children spurred her to action more than anything else.

Wesker would be pissed with her beyond belief for destroying his project, but she doubted that he'd kill her for it, whereas if Chris destroyed the uroboros, there would be hell to pay. But how was she supposed to destroy those damned worms when she couldn't even get in the plane? Would Wesker abandon her and the baby in anger? Maybe, but he'd dared her to do her worst before leaving for Africa. She didn't think that he'd forsake her given that knowledge plus their connection, but he might kill Chris as punishment. Reason told her that this was suicide, but reason only proved so useful. When had logic ever been able to explain her and Wesker, or the instinctual assurance that she felt now, telling her that Wesker would still want her after this? _We agreed to fight until a winner was decided_, Claire recalled. _He'll have to accept those terms._

Meanwhile, Chris was desperately forming a plan B. The rocket launcher had failed because Wesker had caught the damn rocket. Talk about impossible. Now Wesker was confidently striding toward Sheva and hurling insults.

"Wesker!" Chris yelled as he dodged behind a stack of crates. Jill's words were fresh in his mind. "What if Claire isn't one of the chosen?"

Claire froze.

Wesker paused.

Time suspended itself for all of five seconds. Claire had never considered that. Was Wesker only assuming that she would survive the aftermath of his plans? Judging by the brief hitch in his walking, maybe he hadn't. Claire couldn't stop staring at Wesker's back and his black trench coat. If she wouldn't survive, would it affect his plans?

**************

The idea had spontaneously come to Chris as he hid behind a large crate. He had to distract Wesker long enough to get close for a hit with the syringe, and Claire had been a shot in the dark. He was actually surprised that Wesker stopped moving, suggesting that there was some truth to Jill's words. God, Wesker didn't actually care _that much_ about keeping Claire, did he? The thought frightened him, and he refused to extrapolate from his revelation. Wesker caring about whether or not his sister survived uroboros…he actually disliked what that might say about Wesker. It was easier to just consider him a heartless son of a bitch.

Now or never, Chris realized. Wesker's pause was brief. Another second longer, and he'd recover his stride. Chris took his chances and ran toward his foe, syringe ready to strike. Everything happened in the blink of an eye.


	24. Chapter 24: Separation

I know, I know; I haven't updated in…well, it feels like forever, but it wasn't by choice. Life does get overwhelming at times, but here is the next chapter (finally). The story will be finished so don't panic. I'm simply very distracted lately.

Thanks for the reviews everyone! Enjoy!

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Chapter 24: Separation

What an idiotic question. What if Claire isn't one of the chosen? Wesker inwardly scoffed, yet his feet slowed. He had run enough tests to know that he would survive exposure to uroboros, and since he and Claire were compatible, it followed that she would also survive. They were near genetic matches, so naturally he assumed that she would handle it well. She had survived everything else, but when he heard Chris's comment, the word assumed began to bother him. His booted feet actually stopped moving, and for a split second, he grew less concerned with finding Chris and Sheva.

_Assumed_. The word didn't sit well with a calculating man. Wesker did not simply assume things; he tested his theories, yet there had been little time to do so with Claire since her arrival, and now she was pregnant, which could change the course of infection or kill the baby. His lips twisted into a sneer as he noticed Sheva running forward with a gun to take advantage of his brief pause. Chris and his partner weren't very quick on the uptake. He found himself annoyed, although if it were because of their insistence on fighting him or his own lapse in attention, he wouldn't say.

Idiots. They were idiots to defy him, and this question of Claire didn't matter. He shouldn't have allowed it to get beneath his skin since it was a mute point. Claire would be with him while the world was cleansed. Neither of them would necessarily be subjected to uroboros but be the masters of it, or rather, he would be the master, and she the assistant. Why had he paused in thought on the matter? He was beyond the point of denying that her survival mattered to him, but he surprised himself by allowing it to distract him in a battle. Claire would survive. He would see to it, and that was the end of that question. Back to business.

Unfortunately, when he refocused on Sheva and decided to take her out first, Chris was already closer than he'd normally have gotten. Sheva fired, and Wesker dodged the bullets, moving easily to the left and right. The loud bang of cartridges filled the room and resounded off the metal walls, obscuring the soft sound of booted feet. Chris was incredibly close, and Wesker dismissively registered his enemy's presence at his back. Red eyes flashed toward Chris and noted a lack of weapon, which almost made Wesker chuckle.

_Leave it to Chris to foolishly attack me with his bare hands_.

He still had ample time to turn and block Chris's attack, but Sheva's bullets seemed far more dangerous than an unarmed man. She captured his attention, and that in turn slowed his reaction time toward Chris, although he continued to register the man's advance. His eyes shifted, and there was Claire, some distance away, and he could see her over Chris's shoulder. Her hands were clasped together, and her red hair was tumbling loose from its bun. The black dress was dirtied, and she was barefooted, waiting for something to happen. It looked as though she would be forced to watch her brother's death after all. Shame.

Chris yelled and his hand shot out while Wesker glanced back at Sheva. Too late did the tyrant notice the syringe, and then its heavy, thick metal point was piercing the thin fabric of his shirt, biting into skin, and sliding deeper. So Chris hadn't been weaponless or so foolish. Wesker realized that his self-assurance had just cost him when he saw the liquid inside of the syringe. _The serum_. He was going to kill Chris, and he was going to enjoy it, whether or not it would distance Claire. He was ready to spill blood and would have, but the pain was starting, and it was unbearable, even crippling. His fists clenched as the full realization of his situation slapped him in the face. This injury was not something that he was just going to shake off like a bullet wound.

"Ahhhhhhhhh!" Wesker gripped his head and hissed in pain. His nerves were on fire, his unstable cells wreaking havoc on his internal systems as nausea, muscle spasms, and searing burns overcame him. He gritted his teeth together, and a thin trail of blood oozed from the corner of his mouth from the pressure. He wouldn't scream in front of his enemies. He wouldn't let them know how horrible this truly was. Pinpricks of pain shot up his arms, and his legs tensed as they quaked in stress. He would not appear weak in front of Chris of all people, but he had forgotten what real pain was, and passively withstanding an unfamiliar and sudden onslaught was almost impossible.

Kill them. Yes, he was going to make them pay for this. He was above pain such as this, and he hated being reminded of his mortality as if he were some common human. He was going to be a god and change this world, and he'd been without weakness for so long. Damn them! They could have walked away from this and died later. He could have let them go and never wondered about their deaths, but now, now he wanted them to see his project completed and the look of defeat on their faces. They had caused too much trouble for him to impartially regard them as mere gnats, and to be poisoned by his own serum was humiliating. Perhaps Excella had given them information on the serum as her last effort at revenge. It was a good thing that Miss Gionne could only die once.

"Is it working?" Sheva asked Chris. Wesker angrily tore off his sunglasses and glared at them. They were becoming blurry, and his vision was separating into distorting layers. He knew that time was ticking, and now he was in no position to quickly destroy them. As much as he hated it, the practical things to do were leave, unleash uroboros, and admit temporary defeat here. A larger victory was at stake, and he'd be damned if he delayed his moment of triumph by risking further setbacks with these two humans. They could be dealt with later, when he had recovered, but the admittance caused him anger. He despised having been stripped of control over this situation. Suddenly the old grudge against Chris flared with renewed intensity as the man's image wavered before him.

"…" The pain was too much. Damn Excella to hell. She hadn't been joking about excess being a potent poison. He could have sworn that his skin was peeling off, but he was very fortunate that Chris and Sheva were both apparently stupid. They were discussing what was happening to him rather than simply shooting him or otherwise maiming his weakened body.

_Click_.

No, maybe not; now the guns were up.

"This is goodbye, Wesker," Chris stated.

"No, Chris, please!" Claire, Wesker realized. Claire was moving toward them as quickly as possible. Shit. She should have stayed near the plane where he could have easily picked her up. Now she had moved, and he was in no condition to whisk her away like her normally did. Still, the pain was slowly becoming more tolerable. If she could buy him time…his Redfield was always useful. Another wave of pain hit, and Wesker crumbled to his knees. Despite his resolve, he could not prevent the intense moans and grunts of his agony from escaping tightened lips. He could barely think straight, but he could still understand the conversation around him as he heaved and gripped his nearly exploding head.

"Claire, move!" Chris ordered.

"No," Claire was blocking their aim, and her eyes were brimming with frustration. "What did you do to him?" she asked, Wesker's pain digging into her heart. Listening to him writhe was almost too much to bear, and again, the baby was restlessly moving, sensing her distress. She had never heard or seen Wesker in pain. Somehow it felt wrong and even forbidden, and despite his many victims, she only saw and felt for him as another person. It was frustrating to know that there was nothing she could do to ease his distress.

"Claire, this is our chance!" Chris shouted.

"Move!" Sheva insisted, eyes narrowed at Claire as if she were the enemy.

"He's already down," Claire argued. "The uroboros are on the plane. Go destroy them!" Chris's grip on his gun tightened, and Wesker was straightening. Their chance at a quickened victory was slipping away.

"I'm not leaving you with him," Chris affirmed, and Claire shook her head.

"Chris, go finish your job," she retorted with equal resolve. "Your job is to save the planet, not kill Wesker in revenge or determine what I do." Wesker was recovering, and the pain was diminishing to a dull ache. He could again function, although the serum's effects lingered, and it was time to leave before Chris pulled another trick. Wesker would not underestimate the man again. Chris had, after all, been his best student, and with a determination like his, Wesker decided to postpone further risks until victory was assured.

"Chris, we have to do it!" Sheva shouted. Claire locked eyes with her brother, and she saw a self-loathing hesitancy there that she did not recognize. Wesker's lessening moans and Chris's dead stare collided in a swirling atmosphere of uncertain pain that threatened to engulf Claire. Those feelings, the realization that Wesker was recovering, and the deadly distrust in Sheva's glare…Claire's eyes questioned Chris, and she saw his jaw clench in decision.

"Alright, Sheva, do it." Do what? Claire interpreted the gentle lowering of Chris's gun as positive, and so she glanced over her shoulder at Wesker. He was slightly hunched, with blood oozing from his ears and mouth. Concern overwhelmed her, and the baby wildly kicked.

"Albert, are you—" Her words were cut off as Sheva tackled her. Claire's body hit the floor hard, and her natural instinct was to fight. She would have done it too—hit Sheva squarely across the face in what probably would have crushed some bones, but Chris was suddenly there too. His hands were holding her shoulders. Good lord, but she couldn't hurt her brother. Why were they restraining her? She again looked to Sheva in wonder and found hostility in reply.

"Claire," Chris breathed. "Stay still." Sheva had released her, and Chris hauled his sister to her feet, holding her tightly against his chest. Her back was against his front, and they were facing a seemingly recovered Wesker. _He's okay_. Claire could breath a sigh of relief, even as Chris's arms felt less comforting than usual. Wesker, however, was less relieved, and his red eyes flashed dangerously as he realized what had just happened. Of course Claire was strong enough to shake off Chris, but she wouldn't hurt her darling sibling. Such a damn waste of time!

"Chris, let me go!" Claire demanded. "I'm going with him."

"Are you going to just leave without her, Wesker?" Chris demanded of his former captain, completely ignoring Claire's words, and amazed that he could take Claire and Wesker's relationship seriously enough to give this a shot. There was no way that Wesker returned any of what Claire had expressed, but the thought was convincing only because Chris did not understand Wesker. He did not grasp how Wesker's mind work differently than his own, but still not independently of what it meant to be human. This wasn't exactly love, no, but Chris could not fathom what it might be, or perhaps he did and that was why he was so troubled. He had difficulties seeing beyond his own conventional understanding of what a meaningful relationship was.

Brown eyes locked with red, and the animosity passing between the two enemies canceled out any wandering thoughts. Even Claire was knocked speechless as Chris and Wesker stared each other down. Slowly Wesker's head tilted to the side, his face stern and angry before a glimmer of cruel amusement sparked in his eyes. It took a moment for Claire to realize that he wasn't suffering from some type of poison aftereffect but chuckling. What the hell?

"I would never have thought you capable of this, Chris," Wesker drawled. "You're using your own sister against me, or should I say, trying to use her against me. How coldblooded, Christopher, and here Claire has been assuring me of how much you care for each other." Claire felt Chris's arms tighten around her in discomfort. To their right, Sheva was carefully aiming her gun at Wesker's head. As soon as those red eyes were completely locked on Chris and not warily keeping an eye on her as well, she was going to fire.

"I won't let you win," Chris told Wesker. "And I won't let you keep my sister."

"I'm going with him, Chris!" Claire protested.

"Dear heart," Wesker said, checking his watch. "Time is short." Claire pulled, and Chris tugged back, telling her that she would need to fight him for freedom. Her weakened muscles, damn them! Her speed was severely impaired to the point where a quick break was impossible. Wesker's eyes flashed, conveying something that only she could interpret, and the message conveyed displeased acceptance whereas his professional tone had given away nothing. No. She knew exactly what he meant: he was going to leave her behind, and this was his short explanation for doing so. _Time is short_. How damned inadequate.

"Albert…" She saw the slight wandering of his eyes and the thin crease of his brow. The poison was still affecting him, but he would never admit it, just like he would never admit that Claire meant something to him before his enemies. He could not safely risk fighting for her when both of them were debilitated, and nor did he want to waste the time. The truth hurt, but she understood his pragmatic reasoning. If she wanted him, she would need to physically hurt Chris, and in the same fell swoop she would ensure that uroboros succeeded. This was a test that she could not pass. As for Wesker, uroboros was the current priority. _But not because he doesn't care_, Claire inwardly swore. _He simply can't justify staying_. God, how she hated the extent of his ambition's hold over him! Whatever he felt or wanted from her couldn't compete with promised power or work—whether or not he unconditionally approved of that drive—and Claire knew at that moment that he could never just stop. It would take a damn miracle.

_Crack._

"Shit!" Sheva had missed her chance. Wesker had dodged the bullet even in his weakened state.

"This isn't over, Chris!" he ground out with more venom than Claire had ever before heard in his voice. She yearned to go to him, but Chris was restraining her with all his force and demanding that she see reason. No, Wesker was leaving. He was leaving her and the child behind for his project. But he was coming back. _Yeah, after the world is destroyed_. She had failed, or so she felt at that moment. Wesker would win, and she would lose him to boot.

"Albert!" Claire yelled, crumbling in Chris's arms. If only he had said something more, or given her some sign that he knew this wanted a choice. Yes, he knew that to fight for her would potentially mean losing his work, and he couldn't allow himself to do that. Claire did not know whom she felt worse for: him or herself, for she felt that what had happened said more about his failings than hers. "Albert!" she again yelled. He could hear her. She knew that he could, and she was determined to let her emotions reach him—tell him that this wasn't free will, as he already knew. She _really_ needed him to know that.

"Albert!"

"Claire," Chris sighed, squeezing her tightly. "Stop it." No. Never. Wesker had just left her. It hurt like hell even though she understood that he hadn't actually rejected her. He simply couldn't admit that he'd been too weak to beat back Chris, and his project called him first. It was incredibly unfair, and she couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed. For a second, she envied the average person with a normal relationship, but it wasn't fair to fall back on that either.

"Let me go," Claire declared, finally pulling away from Chris. She would never catch up with Wesker now, but she was going to try. There was no time for moping, and she had always guarded against feeling sorry for herself. Claire Redfield tackled her problems head on! Everything, her world and everyone else's world, depended on action, not emotional displays. Perhaps they had not lost yet. _Perhaps I haven't lost._

"Claire, please understand," Chris said. "I can't accept this. I don't even know if I should trust you anymore." He _would_ think that.

"I love him, Chris," Claire admitted. "And I'm going to have his child." She turned and bravely looked her brother straight in the eyes. "And you were going to use me to delay him while Sheva went for the kill." Chris looked somewhat ashamed of himself, and Sheva looked disgusted that he felt ashamed. _Oh, Chris_… "I would have done the same thing in your shoes," Claire stated. Both Sheva and Chris looked at her in shock. "I'm not on his side," she continued. _All is not lost. You can't stop fighting because of this_. "But I am with him."

"We need to go, now," Sheva stressed as the plane's engine started. The entire floor rumbled and the ceiling began opening. Claire mindlessly noted that it was already daylight at warm rays reached her face. The morning sun fell across the floor, sending orange zigzags across the plane's reflective, black surface, and the entire room began to rise toward the yellow haze above. Soon they would be on the ship's deck, where the plane could take off and complete its deadly mission. Claire realized that this had to be done.

"Sheva's right," Claire agreed. "We need to go after him." _You won't get rid of me so easily, Wesker. I won't wait for you to end this. I'm going to be there, even if we both just disappointed each other. _

"We're going," Sheva stated. "You're not."

"What?" Claire asked in shock. Sheva was aiming a gun at her head, and she looked damned serious about using it.

"Sheva, please point that somewhere else," Chris requested before turning to Claire. "You can't come with us, sis."

"Chris…"

"No. We're going to kill him, Claire. There's no other way. I know that you love him, as much as I hate it, and you'll interfere. I don't want you to get hurt." Claire refocused her gaze on the orange and yellow sky with a wistful expression. "This is the only way, Claire. If I could do it without hurting you, I would, even if…even if I just don't get it." She couldn't fight his logic—she just couldn't. They didn't trust her, and she didn't exactly trust herself either, for she had no plan. _But I will be there_. There had to be another way, and then she started thinking about Chris's words. _Chris, when did you get so levelheaded_? She gently smiled. He didn't want to hurt her, even though he hated Wesker and wouldn't otherwise think twice about the man's death.

"I understand," Claire told Chris and Sheva. "Go, but leave me an earpiece so I can know what happens." And they did. They ran for the plane that was preparing to rise into the African sky, and Claire watched it with blue irises that never wanted to turn away. Perhaps Wesker could see her, and she stood tall and strong, wanting him to know that she wasn't broken or compliant. She lifted her arms to perhaps draw attention to herself, and then she pointedly cradled her stomach. _I know you haven't just left us. It just hurts right now. _

Damn, fucking uroboros were competing with her for Wesker's attention. Now she hated those parasites more than ever before, and she willed Chris to destroy them. He and Sheva would handle the worms. She had another task in mind for herself, and as much as the anxiety of uncertainty attacked her, she drew the mouthpiece to her lips and prepared for the worst. _I made you a promise, Matthews, and I'm going to keep it._

"Jill?" Claire asked. "I need a favor."


	25. Chapter 25: Slipping Faith

I am truly sorry that it took so long to update. On the upside, I'm expecting A's on all of the papers that are currently sucking my life dry. Thanks for the reviews, and enjoy!

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Chapter 25: Slipping Faith

"Goodbye for now, dear heart," Wesker softly spoke. The sky overhead was fast approaching, and there stood Claire, arms waving and then carefully touching her stomach. He had, of course, heard her yelling his name, wanting him to come back. She wanted to stay with him; she'd yelled it in Chris's face, but that had been the extent of it, and Wesker couldn't help but feel dissatisfied. In some sense, what had happened was her choice, for strong desire should have been enough for her to escape Chris. Of course, her brother would have likely been injured in the process since channeling her inner instincts was hardly safe to those around her. And so Claire had weighed the risks and made a choice.

Reflecting on her decision, Wesker was disappointed. He had seen the look of defeat in her eyes when she had sagged against Chris, effectively confessing that she could not bring herself to do what had to be done. Was it weakness? Wesker would normally jump directly to that conclusion, but perhaps with Claire it was strength. She had a way of making him reevaluate what he usually wrote off as foolishness, and her loyalty was actually commendable. It was a hard trait to denounce when the same sense of loyalty kept her true to him, her lover. Still, he found it annoyingly irrefutable that one of her greatest qualities both bolstered her attachment to him, but in the end caused her to let him slip away.

It had been her choice, and he wasn't pleased, but he understood her reasoning. In her eyes, it probably wasn't a betrayal at all, but her yells had been so desperate. She was worried, he realized, worried that he would write her off as a failure. _No, dear heart, not at all_. She was unapologetically who she was, and her heart would never grow calloused enough to deny those whom she loved. Hadn't she already proven herself to him? Perhaps. He was never absolutely certain, and now he realized more than ever that Chris had to die. There was no way around it if he wanted Claire's unwavering loyalty and priority. He had thought of this before, but never with such fierce resolve, for what had once been an aggravation was now growing into a serious issue. He would not have Claire torn between two opposed personalities on the eve of her full induction into his world.

Wesker smiled cruelly, for this was one problem that would be settled shortly. Cold resolve had always been one of his greatest assets; however, as he watched the sunlight fall across Claire's form, he was acutely aware of his agitation, heightened as it was by the pain still lingering over his body. She would be on her own when he unleashed uroboros, and so she would need to take care of herself—that, and he wouldn't be around to control and manipulate her experiences in the bloody aftermath. It would make his job more difficult, but it wasn't a major problem. No, he was more concerned with a specific thought that was bringing out the depths of his dark nature, and it was something that he had long been contemplating. As obnoxious as it was, this was partly his fault.

Wesker did not easily admit such things, and now was no different, but he had to take blame where it was due. For one, he had neglected Chris's presence and gotten himself poisoned, thus ending his ability to forcefully take Claire. Secondly, he had gone against his instincts, and that was the real source of his ever-darkening mood. It was mind-numbingly disgusting now that he considered it.

Claire claimed to love him, and he did not doubt her sincere intentions when she said that, but perhaps he had allowed himself to put too much stock in such sentimental comments. He had seen her in the hangar when Chris and Sheva began fighting him. He had seen her edging closer, looking nervous and concerned, and yet he had dismissed her. He would kill or delay his enemies, and she would naturally accompany her love afterward—at least, that had been the plan—but then she'd stepped in front of him, shielding his body with her own. No one had ever done such a thing for him, and it stunned him that he should be the recipient of such honest sacrifice. That more than anything had made him think that Claire was unconditionally at his side, and so he had expected her to pull free from Chris when she was detained. Instead, her look of defeat had disappointed him more than he could have anticipated, but why?

He openly mocked himself for those few seconds where she'd longingly stared at him. He was an idiot to have momentarily believed that Claire's love was really as complete as she seemed to think. It wasn't enough on its own to unconditionally bind her to him. Emotional attachments were never enough on their own, and because he accepted that, he had never fully depended on them in handling others. He didn't even know how to completely forgo manipulation in his associations, and there was a reason for that: survival and control. Claire clearly needed to be marginally monitored since their emotional attachment would never be entirely enough to satisfy his security precautions on its own. His trust didn't work like that, and he was slightly disappointed (although he would never admit it) that Claire had reaffirmed his decision on that account.

He doubted that she really would have fought Chris to protect him. She would have been mad to do so when her brother's life would be the cost. Still…Wesker started the engine, and the plane would take off within moments. He saw Chris and Sheva running to catch up as the machine's engine began purring and the gears moving. The ship's rising platform locked into place, and he entered the coordinates that would take him to the desired atmospheric height.

Wesker admitted to himself that he would have preferred that Claire had made another decision. He had not placed undue trust in hoping that she would, but it would have been a most welcomed surprise. It would have forced him to accept that maybe Claire was right, and that people could selflessly dedicate themselves to another, and that because of such a bond's intensity, he could mindlessly allow this one woman into his life. It didn't matter that he would never be self-sacrificing or humble like her. What mattered was that there would be no more looking over the shoulder or checking to see if she was foiling his plans. It would have been something entirely new, but something which he'd never put faith in exactly because it was so unrealistic. Again, there was a reason for doing so, and Claire was proof of that, as much as he still intended to keep her.

Life was, in short and as always, exactly what he expected it to be.

Experiments on children, greed, power, backstabbing, plotting…only fools thought otherwise, and they were the ones to be used and disposed of at will.

_Claire believes otherwise_. Okay, so there was some warmth in this world, Wesker decided, but it wasn't free of its own weaknesses and self-interest.

_It's still warmth. _

Yes, and he decided that he didn't want to lose that rare bright spot, even though he didn't need it like he needed this project and its power. The plane pulled away, and Chris and Sheva—those damned, eternal nuisances—were running to catch the plane's open hold. He pressed the button to raise the hatch and thus seal them outside to await an agonizing end. Claire was still standing there, watching the plane catch speed and prepare for take off.

_Warmth_, he mused before realizing that he was going to have to go down to the hold and dispose of two stowaways. Claire was completely forgotten as his annoyance returned tenfold. The uroboros called to him, and he wouldn't let anything harm them. He would not be stopped, and suddenly the warmth cooled. It didn't matter when he had a task before him, and it would be waiting for him when he was finished here. She had agreed to side with him if he won, and he at least believed her on that account. She was dedicated to keeping her word, and it wasn't like she would have a choice anyway.

**********************

The plane was gone, leaving Claire to watch it rise into the sky. Chris and Sheva were on that plane, even though she had doubted that the other woman would make it. Well, it was good that Chris wasn't alone. _That Sheva is a toughie_—_just like me_, Claire thought. She pressed a hand to the communicator stuck in her ear and concentrated. With the loud thrusts of the plane's engines and the rushing wind, it was difficult to hear what Jill was saying. Her sensitive ears were always drawn to overbearing noises, especially when Wesker was causing them.

"What?" she virtually yelled at Jill.

"We're coming," Jill's familiar voice answered. "Look east." Claire had no idea which way was east. She didn't even know where she was, but that wasn't exactly an unfamiliar situation. Gosh, she hated being forever taken and deposited in unknown locations. _Where is freaking east?_ But she didn't need to ponder the question for long, for the buzz of a helicopter interrupted her thoughts.

There, she realized. The helicopter was swooping over the water's surface and heading straight for the ship. _Thank you_, she silently smiled. Now she could follow Wesker, but could the helicopter catch a plane? The ominous, black aircraft was already rapidly disappearing from sight and with it her chances of reaching her family before it was too late. For the culmination of a lifetime's battle, the day was so achingly beautiful that the plane's dark splotch upon sapphire blue looked harmless. It seemed to her that this place had no business being so deceptively benign and warm when people whom she loved were probably going to die. How many were even aware that the fate of the world was ascending higher and higher?

The whirl of the helicopter's blades grew much louder as it hovered and lowered onto the ship's wide deck, but Claire was kept watching Wesker and Chris fading into the horizon. It was not the sound but the wind that eventually broke her concentration, and she muttered several curses as she struggled to hold down the edges of her black dress. The helicopter was kicking up such a gust that her hair tore free from its bun and whipped about her face. She took several steps forward while combating her untamable hair, a thrill of excitement shooting through her as she realized that her muscles were no longer sore or sluggish. It was time to go, and now her body was sufficiently recovered to handle it.

The side of the helicopter was open, and Jill knelt at the entrance, one hand extended. Her dark hair had grown longer during captivity, and a now lengthy ponytail fluttered about behind her. Claire noted that her friend still wore the black bodysuit, but her face seemed less strained. The overbearing pain of hardships that had seemed permanently etched into her face only a short while ago was nowhere to be found, and in its place was an understandable weariness. It permeated her smooth but restrained body language as she leaned out of the helicopter while holding onto the metal frame.

"Come on!" she called, and Claire complied. _Gods, she looks so ready for this_, Jill thought. She too was ready for this to be over, but she was surprised by Claire's steadiness after what had happened with Chris. Well, if Claire knew what was coming and could still keep her chin up, the woman had energy reserves that Jill commended. This precarious battle of wills couldn't be any easier on Claire than it was on her, for both were facing the possible loss of loved ones, but then again, perhaps it was that very finality and pressure that forced them to run headlong toward a deadly conclusion. Too much was crashing around them for either to fully comprehend the dangerous knife's edge that they walked along. It was a blessing as far as Jill was concerned. She had always been more comfortable fighting for her life than sitting in the aftermath, covered in debris and waiting for the next surprise.

"We've got to move fast," Claire stated as her hand gripped Jill's.

"Don't worry," Jill shouted back. There was something raw about Claire's appearance as she was pulled forward—something wild and utterly enthralling. Flying red hair, determined, blue eyes shining in the brilliant morning light, and a black dress hugging her thighs and body, revealing the ever-present baby bump. Wesker's child was in there, and Jill could summon no clear emotion to deal with that fact. In more than one way, she was sad to know that Claire's situation had grown even more complicated than it already had been; however, Wesker really _did_ seem to care about Claire in his own way, which happened to be a way that Jill had caught a glimmer of after watching him for hours on end.

Jill knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Wesker was different with Claire—oh, not in an obvious way, but the evidence was there in subtle gestures and stray comments that he made in reference to Claire. Perhaps most telling was what he didn't do around her: harshly ridicule or ignore her, order her to be useful, brush off her concerns or needs, or lock her away…the more Jill considered these things, the more she realized that Wesker, for all his outward coolness, was more considerate and caring toward Claire than seemed possible.

"Chris, Sheva, and Albert are on that plane," Claire said as she sat beside Jill in the helicopter. "Albert's going to release uroboros into the atmosphere."

"We know," Jill replied. "We'll catch up to them."

"How?"

"Satellite," Jill smiled. "The government gave BSAA was damned good equipment. We'll follow them, and hopefully Chris will ground the plane. If not…"

"Yeah, I know," Claire grimly stated. "It will all be over." Jill reached across the seat and grabbed the other woman's hand. She did not like the dark expression settling over her friend's face. It was too reminiscent of her own throughout captivity.

"You're not in this alone," she assured Claire. Their hands were clasped together, and Claire stared at them a moment longer before gently nodding her head.

"That's right," she agreed. "No one is in this alone, despite what _certain_ people might be tempted to think." Jill immediately understood the implication and still managed to nod. She wondered if Wesker had any idea how fortunate he was to have found what he had in Claire. Did that bastard have any idea what he might lose to his ambition? If he did, she doubted that it would stop him, and that made him a fool. He was the cruelest son of bitch that she'd ever met, and his priorities were all consuming, but she could find no pity for the monster. Part of her wanted him to die alone and miserable for what he'd done, and she was going to help accomplish that; yet here was Claire, and she didn't want her friend to suffer through such an ordeal.

"There's no stopping this, Claire," she said, soft but final.

"I know, and thank you, Jill. I imagine that I don't seem very trustworthy anymore."

"That's not true," Jill argued. "I don't doubt you." She pulled her hand away and stared out the side of the helicopter, feeling Claire's questioning gaze on her profile. _I don't hold it against you, Claire._ But she didn't voice those thoughts aloud, for she didn't want to have this conversation now when more important ordeals engulfed them. Instead she focused on the waves that sped away beneath them, and her eyes were drawn toward several birds in flight near the crest of the waves. She breathed deep and let her eyes close against the warm heat of the day.

Free.

It hit her for the first time in its entirety. The wind against her face and the smell of salt water invaded her senses, and this time she could enjoy the sensations as a woman without chains. She could smile. It was amazing that such a simple thing could elevate her heart to untold heights. She suddenly wanted to jump into that water and feel it envelop her, and then she would be able to swim and languish in its feel rather than immediately return to some dungeon because her master called.

God, she hated that man. This—this was bliss. Simply being was enough at that moment, and she didn't want it to end. To be able to indulge in something rather than move like a mechanical puppet was something that she'd forgotten existed, and now she could again choose what she did and expressed. Her thoughts naturally turned to the person who had taken that ability from her, and she wondered if he had ever chosen to sit and revel in something as simple as the wind and water. Probably not. It seemed to her one of the greatest misfortunes of this world that someone could have the ability to appreciate such basic freedoms and joy and never really utilize it. Wesker probably overlooked everything that now seemed so precious to her.

"Claire," she said, drawing the redhead's attention. "Do ever regret seeing in gray?"

Silence.

"I used to, but not right now." It was a fair and honest answer, and Jill appreciated it for what it was. "Did he hurt you badly?" Claire asked, and Jill's mouth twisted into a frown.

"He hurt me in ways that will never heal," she sighed. "Up here," and she pointed to her head. Claire sadly nodded and began holding her stomach. She really did care, Jill realized. Claire always managed to care, even when it hurt her to do so. How had Wesker gained such a gift? More importantly, how was he leaving it behind to an uncertain fate? "He has no idea," Jill sadly scoffed, appalled by the man's callousness. She assumed that Claire had not heard her, but then the other woman glanced at her with a blank face.

"He knows, Jill, but he doesn't always understand." Jill couldn't decide whether that made it worse or better. She was mostly too tired to waste any more thoughts on contemplating emotions and motives. She couldn't even dwell on her intense aversion to all things Wesker-related. Perhaps she could have found more energy to do so, but the clinging fatigue of freshly shed captivity prevented her from overly caring about proper revenge. She just wanted to put this behind her.

"Something's not right," a male voice interrupted them. Great. What now?


	26. Chapter 26: Hellfire

Again, sorry for the delayed update, but I promise that I'm working on this as quickly as I can given my predicaments. Also, someone sent me an e-mail about working on a story idea somehow connected to this. I didn't mean not to respond, but I accidently deleted the e-mail and can't find it, so I don't know who to reply to. Whoever it was, please let me know. Thanks!

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Chapter 26: Hellfire

It hurt like hell, but it was amazing what adrenaline could do to a person. Sheer willpower felt like the only thing that kept him going at times, but now was no time to worry about that. Chris gritted his teeth together and forced himself to his feet, gun clenched tightly in his hand until the knuckles whitened. He had known Wesker was superhuman, but being hit squarely in the chest by the man was enough to put anyone out of commission. Damn, but that bastard had really pumped his body with power. Even the serum that they'd poisoned him with seemed null and void at this point. If only Claire hadn't stopped him from killing Wesker when the bastard was weak.

"This will all be over soon," Wesker darkly stated. The man was dodging Sheva's bullets like they were nothing. With the battle going downhill, Chris steadied himself and assaulted Wesker with a series of punches, none of which hit their mark, and Wesker only gave a snort of disgust and pulled a pistol free from his belt. Arms snapped outward, and metal touched skin.

_Shit._

Chris felt the coldness of Wesker's gun against his forehead, the tip putting uncomfortable pressure on his brow, but he didn't let his vision move toward the weapon. Hard brown eyes remained focused on Wesker's face, his own gun pressed against the man's chest. Wesker glanced at the gun against the black fabric of his shirt and chuckled.

"Aiming for the heart, Chris?" he baited. "I'm afraid that won't work." The end of his comment came out as a sneer, the amusement dropping into oblivion. The man was clearly pissed at Chris's continued efforts to thwart him.

"Right," Chris blandly replied. "What was I thinking? You don't have a heart." He figured that he might as well speak his mind and end his existence with a little dignity since shooting Wesker wouldn't do shit for saving his hide this time. The tip of Wesker's gun pressed closer, and Chris vaguely noted that he would have a monstrous bruise there later. _If I survive_, he added. Wesker didn't believe in mercy, and that's what Chris's life was dangling on. He stared up into the sunglasses and cold, impenetrable face before him, and really couldn't understand what had drawn Claire into Wesker's web of lies. _Lies_. Everything connected to this man was smothered in lies, and that had always sickened Chris.

"What the hell do you get out of this, Wesker?!" he demandingly bellowed. It was a question about uroboros, and Claire, and betraying Stars, and what meaning power could lend a life. He already knew Wesker's answer as the other man began to speak, and perhaps it was a stupid question, but it had always hovered in the recesses of Chris's mind.

"I should think that what I stand to gain is obvious," Wesker drawled.

"And I suppose that it was worth abandoning the last person on this planet that gives a damn about you," Chris muttered, waiting for the bullet that he expected given Wesker's annoyed expression. This was the end, but he wouldn't close his eyes. He would unflinchingly watch his death come.

"Chris, hold onto something!" Sheva suddenly yelled. A rush of wind abruptly overtook his attention, roaring in his ears and stinging his eyes; and it was pulling him, damn it. His body began flying toward the open cargo hold, his attempts to latch onto the metal floor in vain. For a disorientated second, he wondered what was happening, and then he was staring out into the expanse of the sky and the rough terrain below. There was a long drop to the ground, but why was land so close? Had the plane lost height? His arms wrapped around a piece of railing as the wind continued to batter his bruised form.

He managed a grim smile. So Sheva had figured out how to open the cargo hold. It was a desperate gamble, and one that could easily kill them, but at least Wesker wasn't pointing a gun at him anymore. He turned to see where Sheva was, and his chest tightened in distress when he saw that Wesker had her, or she had him, or something like that. It was difficult to tell who was dominating whom in the chaotic situation. The wind was yanking both toward the doors with unstoppable force, and black tumbled over purple. There was nothing for them to grip, and they clawed at each other like animals as they hurtled ever closer to death.

"Sheva!" Chris yelled, the wind whipping his words away so quickly that he wondered if they had reached their target or been blown back down his throat. Already his face felt raw from the currents around him, and he watched helplessly as Wesker slid passed him, one hand latched onto Sheva's ankle to take her with him. The woman yelped and squirmed in protest, and her frightened face turning toward Chris as she was swept away from him. "NO!"

"Chris!" she shouted. Her arms were frantically reached for him, and he took the chance and lunged for her. His large hand engulfed her much smaller one, and he clung to her with all his might while his other hand remained attached to the railing. He wouldn't be able to maintain this anchor for long, as his fingers were already aching for release. Was it just him, or was the ground outside getting closer by the second?

"Hold on!" he encouraged. Sheva was busy kicking Wesker's head with every ounce of pent up malice within her slender frame. It was anger bred from watching innocents fall to his evil scheme, and she had been waiting a long time for this satisfaction. She pummeled him and cursed, and her nails dug into Chris's palm as she felt her fingers slipping from his.

"Get off!" she yelled at Wesker, who sneered in frustration. Chris didn't think that Sheva would detach her attacker until something hit the plane, or more accurately, the plane hit something. There was a gut wrenching sound of scraping metal, and then a violent jerk that stuck needles into Chris's numb fingers and nearly shook him from his post. The plane shuddered, and Sheva dealt one last blow to Wesker, the heel of her boot smashing into the bridge of his nose. The sunglasses had long been ripped into the air, and so unmasked, red eyes screamed their hate for her as Wesker's fingers slipped.

His black trench coat flew wildly about his body as he was pulled feet first out the back of the plane. His dark form was almost instantly lost from sight, and Sheva now used two hands to pull herself up Chris's arms toward safety.

"Are you alright?" Chris asked.

"Never better!" she joked, but the smile was quickly lost when the plane again jerked, this time with such force that its speed rapidly slowed, and looking out the doors, it was painfully obvious that it were scraping sharp rocks. The plane was sailing across dirt and rock, and then the position of gravity rapidly changed, throwing Chris and Sheva for a loop. The plane's tail was rising into the air, and now they were fighting to keep from falling in the opposite direction. What the hell was going on? Banging, snapping, scraping, and an explosion rattled their ears. By the time the plane stopped, neither was sure which way was up or what had happened, but suddenly and inexplicably the air was incredibly hot.

****************

"What's wrong?" Claire asked. Land was now visible, and the sloping curves of a mountain loomed before them. Its imposing bulk jutted out of the blue waves to rise higher and higher until the top flattened into a wide series of peaks.

"I don't know exactly," the pilot confessed. "One moment they were at our altitude, and the next, they just dropped." Claire and Jill glanced at one another in concern, and Claire read the unspoken fear on Jill's face as the woman stood and swung into the co-pilot's seat. She was studying a small computer screen mounted into the helicopter's dashboard, and Claire peered intently over Jill's shoulder at a blinking dot.

"Is it serious?" she asked, and Jill's frown deepened.

"They shouldn't be that low, and they've stopped moving."

"They crashed?" Claire asked, voice constricted.

"It appears so, and on the mountain." She clicked a few buttons and the dot stopped flashing. "They're definitely down."

"We'll be close enough to see the damage soon," the male pilot stated. "I know that we agreed to do anything to stop Wesker, but I never wanted to see this. Chris can be a stubborn son of a bitch when it comes to victory." _Yes, he can_, Claire agreed.

"Shit!" Jill cursed. "How could they fly into a freaking mountain?"

"At least uroboros isn't in the air," the pilot offered, but he sounded equally upset. Claire's eyes suddenly widened, and she laid a gently hand on Jill's shoulder to draw attention away from the computer. Wesker would have survived a simple plane crash, but she was worried about Chris and Sheva. They were only human, and even if they had survived…

"Jill, what if the crash released uroboros?" Jill's face paled, but she kept a straight face.

"Then they'll be easier to contain on the mountain than in the atmosphere," she ground out, clearly frustrated with the situation. Her worried eyes found Claire's and she blinked back the pain. "If he's infected…" Yes, that had been exactly what Claire had been most disturbed by. Chris had spent his life fighting Umbrella. To die as one of the freaks that he'd long struggled against was incredibly unjust, and beyond that, if it didn't kill him, he might need to be put down. Claire knew that the possibility troubled Jill more than the thought of death by plane crash.

"If he can't survive," Claire swallowed. She didn't want to say this, but she'd killed people whom she'd like before. An infected person was as good as dead, even if their body was still running around, and she reminded herself of that now. She had to promise Jill this, for doing otherwise would be extremely cruel. Chris was her brother, but Jill was closer to him than his sister would ever again be. Claire inhaled and offered a stern, determined face to her friend. "If something needs to be done, I'll do it so that you don't have to."

"Thank you, Claire, but maybe it would be better for me to…"

"There!" the pilot hollered, pointing toward the nearing cliffs. "That black smoke. That must be where they crashed." Jill nodded and moved toward the back of the helicopter where a box of weapons was kept.

"Ready?" she asked Claire while pulling out a bazooka.

"Hell yes." Any traces of weakness or concern were gone in either woman. Claire moved to the open side of the helicopter and stared out, searching the rugged terrain below for the crashed plane. She was surprised by the amount of heat hitting her face as she gently leaned out a little further. That smell, the heat, the orange haze ahead—what was that? The helicopter whirled over a small peak, and Claire stared in surprised horror as the situation dawned on her. "Oh my god…"

This wasn't just a mountain; it was a volcano, and the remains of a black aircraft lay on an outcropping of rock above a fiery swirl of lava, the front of the plane edging out over the molten pool. Parts of it were scattered across the ground encircling the lava, and large skid marks revealed the path of the crash, obscured as the scene was by the shifting waves of heat that distorted the air. There was no sign of Chris, Sheva, or Wesker, but that didn't mean anything concrete, for the smoke from the crash drifted upward and constantly moved to block Claire's view. It was maddening, and so her grip on the side of the helicopter tightened.

Oranges, yellows, and reds swam and popped before her eyes. Even from here, she could see small jets of lava shooting out of the main pool with its menacing glow. The light fell across what looked to be some type of missile lying near the plane, but then the smoke blackened further and blew over the scene as part of the plane exploded with an incredible bang.

"We need backup!" the pilot was saying. "Possible bio-spill at…"

"They'll never get here in time," Jill stated, and Claire was thinking the exact same thing.

*******************

Chris opened his eyes and could have sworn that he was in hell. The heat and pain in his back made him consider the possibility, but then he rolled over onto his side and found himself on the brink of falling into lava. His eyes widened and he instinctively jerked upright and away from the edge of the large pool of molten rock that bubbled mere feet from him. Shit. If had rolled another few inches he'd be missing an arm or more. He looked up at the surrounding towers of rock and realized that he was in a crater—the mouth of a freaking volcano.

"Sheva!" he called. He was on his aching feet and staring at the remains of the plane. The body was intact, but dented, and the wings had broken off. Large pieces of metal were strewn around him, and he noticed the uroboros' container sitting perched between two large rocks off to the right. The metal casing didn't appear to have ruptured in the crash, for which he was grateful, but that didn't mean that no uroboros had escaped. Maybe the lava would be a useful way to dispose of them.

"Chris!"

"Sheva?" He began stumbling through the rubble while constantly aware that the volcano might blow at any moment and take them with the uroboros. Now that would be a bittersweet victory, and poor Jill would lose everything that she was so close to regaining. He couldn't let that happen.

"Chris, I'm over here!" He stepped around a large boulder and found Sheva on the ground, her leg trapped under a broken piece of airplane. Her face scrunched in pain as she tugged at the limb, one of her bloodied hands pounding on the entrapping metal with frustration.

"Don't hurt yourself," Chris ordered. "Let me lift it a little." The metal hunk wasn't very large, but it was heavy. His fingers gripped the edges and heaved with every muscle in his arm strained by the effort. One inch…two inch…

"I'm out!" Sheva said, her foot slipping free from the wreckage. Chris immediately dropped the metal and stepped back.

"Is it broken?"

"No, just sore." Chris helped her stand, and he was about to suggest that they high tail it out of the crater when a scathing voice broke across the air above them.

"Chris!" No, _he_ couldn't have survived, but Chris turned, and there was Wesker, standing on a raised mound of earth with the haze of hellfire behind him, the orange light outlining his bare and defined chest. He looked like an angry war god come for vengeance, and there beneath him were the uroboros.

"You've lost, Wesker!" Sheva shouted. His response was to jump down to the missile and raise a fist above his head.

"I have not lost!" he spat.

"He wouldn't…" Sheva breathed, but Chris didn't believe in her doubt anymore than she did. Wesker's fist broke through the metal, and uroboros rabidly swarmed over his arms and chest, slipping beneath his skin to writhe and mold his human appearance to their needs.

"Fuck," Chris gasped. Wesker growled in fury as his right shoulder and arm convulsed and twisted, the skin peeling away as uroboros extended the limb and warped it into a grotesque appendage of abnormal size and blackened color. It's slick, throbbing surface reminded Chris of the creature that had killed Alpha team, and he had to marvel at Wesker's determination to see his project through. In a way, this was fitting; for once the former captain's appearance matched his inner nature.

A nearby eruption of lava blasted into the air, and the ground shook menacingly as Wesker's muscles and skin continued to bulge. Uroboros obviously wasn't going to kill him, and as his red eyes fixed on his enemies, Chris knew that the hate there signaled the end to this battle. Only one of them was leaving this volcano.

The ground shook again, and rocks crumbled into the lava around them. Then again, maybe no one would make it out of here alive. They were fighting on borrowed time.


	27. Chapter 27: A Plan Executed

Yeah, another chapter! I spent a long time shaping this to a point where it suited me. AND there is another chapter coming, so look for that. As always, feedback is welcomed.

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Chapter 27: A Plan Executed

"Jill, can you see anything?" Claire shouted over the roar of the helicopter blades. Both women leaned against the open doors of the aircraft, anxiously trying to see through a fresh cloud of black smoke. Eyes darted to and fro while Jill constantly shouted into her mouthpiece, hoping to raise Chris or Sheva. Claire too was glued to her communicator, but static was the only response to their calls. The tension and uninformed nature of their watch was maddening, and Claire's mind was working in overtime as she tried to formulate a plan. She had to be here for the end, but now that she was, she felt utterly marginalized. Being in the air was pointless; ground was where the action was. What the hell was she supposed to do hovering above an active volcano?

"Chris, please answer me!" Jill begged, pressing a button on her earpiece. "What's going on?" She scrunched her face in worry and finally dropped her hand. "Damn. We've got to find out if they're alive." She looked at Claire, whose face was obscured by messy strands of red hair. One of the woman's hands moved to her rounded stomach, and the maternal gesture made Jill sigh. When this was finally over, there would be a lot of rebuilding to do—a lot of coping and adapting. Even if Chris would forsake Wesker's child, Jill had already decided to be there for Claire.

"Jill? Can you hear me?" a male voice suddenly asked. Her nerves fired in excitement, and a hand flew to her ear.

"Chris? What happened?" She peered into the smoky barrier that blocked her view with renewed determination and noticed that it was thinning. "Move us closer for a visual!" she told the pilot. "Chris?"

"No time," his pained voice grunted. "Uroboros are loose. Wesker infected himself." Jill's eyes instinctively moved toward Claire, who was hearing every word of this conversation. The redhead's body had noticeably stiffened at the mention of infection, and it almost looked like the hand on her stomach was shaking.

"We're going to drop in low to get you out of there," Jill told Chris. "We're just waiting for a visual. Is anyone else infected? Where's Sheva?"

"Can't talk....Sheva, watch out; he's right behind you!" Static overtook the signal, and Jill decided not to attempt any further communication. It was too risky to distract the two fighters in their current situation, and she needed to concentrate on freeing them from the volcano. Chris and Sheva would have to handle Wesker on their own for the time being.

"There's a rope ladder here somewhere," she said as she yanked open one of the helicopter's back compartments. She avoided looking at Claire, who was conspicuously silent, her entire face now hidden behind a curtain of hair. _Claire, what must you be going through?_ Jill's hands wrapped around the ladder, and she turned. The bundle of rungs had been hidden beneath a first aid kit, and she tried to focus on her that instead of the emotional torment of her close friend. _Good god_, she thought, as she ventured a glance at Claire. The woman's hands were clenched tightly over her lap, face still pensively overlooking the crash sight. The smoke had completely cleared by now, affording both a clear view of the battle below, but Jill was watching Claire.

Claire had promised to interfere in Chris's welfare if the need arose so as to spare Jill the possible pain, and Jill was sure that the commitment had not been an easy one. Perhaps she should do something for Claire in return. _Yeah, like what?_ Her inner voice mocked her, for what could she do for her friend when the enemy would be intimately involved in any decision? She would not help Wesker; she couldn't—not when he posed a threat to the world and had already killed so many innocent bystanders. She would never quite forgive the man for that or for what he had forced her hand to do. If uroboros wiped out mankind, it would partially be her fault for having helped him, however unwillingly. She would never be able live with that knowledge.

"Claire," she said. "Help me lock the ladder into place." She could think of nothing else to say, for she'd already given Claire her sympathy and compassion. There was nothing else to offer but the love of a friend, and Claire knew it, so they opened the ladder's metal hooks and locked them around the helicopter's metal frame. They would toss the ladder's length over the side once they were close enough for a rescue operation, and then...well then they could hopefully all go home and begin recovering. She looked at Claire again, and the steeled expression on her friend's face could not hide the pain lurking directly behind blue eyes. No, there was no room for Wesker in this helicopter, and if there was, no one would allow it anyway. Recovery would be hardest for the expectant mother.

"The smoke's cleared," Claire stated, attention back on the mountain.

"There they are," Jill added. The small figures below were running along a narrow ledge of rock, lava popping mere feet from their safe path. Rocks crumbled into the fiery mixture, and guns blazed. It was Chris and Sheva who were running, trying to keep ahead of the slowly rising lava and a pursuing Wesker. Jill heard Claire's soft gasp as the man's condition became apparent. Even from this height and through the haze of hot air, black, bulky sections of flesh could be seen across his body, and Jill and Claire knew that they were actually living patches of uroboros.

"Albert..." Claire's strained voice mirrored the shimmering uncertainty in the depths of her eyes. They were wells of sorrow, and Jill couldn't help but reach out and touch Claire's arm. Her fingers gently gripped the rigid limb while the helicopter swooped lower, closer to the combatants below. Chris and Sheva were obviously trying to knock Wesker into the lava, for they couldn't leave with him still alive. Even Jill was holding her breath at the sight, for one false move would mean a painful end for anyone involved.

_Kill him_. That was the thought running through Jill's mind as she watched Sheva slash at Wesker with a knife, nearly forcing both of them over a crumbling hunk of rock and to their deaths. She wondered how hard this was for Claire to watch, but quickly decided that she didn't want to know. The newly formed Albert Wesker below was finished, even if he didn't yet acknowledge it, and Claire probably understood that. He was deformed—another one of umbrella's monsters, and he would never be the same. Yet Jill could still see him sitting in his office in the underground lab, his fingers lightly tapping against the computer desk, face angled toward her.

_"Such poor company," he mockingly taunted her silent form. "I was rather hoping that you'd fight a bit more like Miss Redfield." His phone suddenly rang, and he checked the number. "Speak of the devil...Dear heart?" He paused, listening, and then chuckled into his black cell phone. "I'm afraid so." Pause. "Claire, you're quite impossible to forget." _

Jill could still hear his words, because they had shocked her so. Wesker had actually seemed to be enjoying the conversation, and he had used Claire's first name plus an endearing nickname. More than that, she had noticed how his posture had relaxed, which was highly unusual, and then, when he'd actually brought Claire to the lab...Well, he had caressed her _and_ given her his time for no particular reason. Damn, but in those moments she had thought that maybe the man hadn't lost everything that had once made him a normal, feeling human.

"Jill, I can't stay here," Claire stated. "I can't just watch him..." She swallowed her words and mutely stared into Jill's eyes.

"He's gone, Claire," Jill said as kindly as she could. "He's turned himself into a creature, and he'll never be the same." However, even as she said that, it wasn't entirely true, and her mind wandered to the small metal case that sat beneath the seat behind her. Should she? But it was for Chris or Sheva if either of them needed it. _They're not infected. Wesker is_. But she didn't want Wesker to live. She didn't even know if the treatments worked...

_"This, Miss Valentine, is a poison," Wesker drawled. "It kills uroboros, but Miss Gionne is to know nothing about it." He held up a syringe of some unnamed orange substance, and Jill studied it before he slid it back into a small freezer. "In case of unforeseen problems, this is where it is kept. 67336." He entered the code on an electronic lock and turned away. "Find Irving and see that he completes his task. Make sure that he knows further delays will not be tolerated."_

Jill had always wondered why Wesker had shown her that frozen safe. There wasn't suppose to be a cure for uroboros, and Wesker had never mentioned the fact to anyone other than herself since she was his perfectly-behaved puppet. _Unforeseen problems_. Was his mutation an unforeseen problem? When Chris and Sheva had left her in order to chase Wesker, she had immediately gone for that safe and secured the poison. Now it seemed to her that perhaps Wesker had told her about it so that she would be forced to save him if anything had gone wrong. Men like Wesker always seemed to have backup plans, so that was not surprising, but she marveled that he was not completely confident in uroboros. Then again, when had he ever been confident in anything other than himself?

"I have to do something," Claire repeated, breaking her train if thought. "You may not understand, but I have to be with him for this. I won't watch him die alone and be burnt away like he never existed, even if...even if he is gone." In many ways, it would be easier if that monster down there had lost its mind and was no longer the man she loved, but judging by Wesker's cunning moves against Chris and Sheva, that wasn't true. Now it was up to Jill to make her decision regarding the matter, and as Claire braced hands against the door and reached for the ladder, she did.

"Claire!" She grabbed the woman's arm. "You might kill yourself and the baby if you go down there!" Claire took the ladder and tossed it over the side of the helicopter anyway. "Claire!" The redhead unexpectedly turned back from her task and clasped Jill's hands within her own.

"No, Jill. Could you just fly out of here and leave Chris behind?" Jill choked on her retort and then sadly smiled before patting her friend's hands in reply. "Get Chris and Sheva out of here," Claire continued. "And tell Chris to stop stalling and give you that ring."

"He'll never get away with doing otherwise," Jill said, and Claire firmly nodded.

"See you later!" Claire's legs swung over the side and hit the highest rung. It was a short climb to the ground for someone as nimble as herself.

"Claire!" Jill called, leaning out over the edge of the helicopter. "Take these!" The cold metal of a briefcase passed from her hand to Claire's, and all she could think about was the way that Wesker had held Claire and gently brushed hands over the woman's stomach. She had to accept that there was something between the two that meant neither Wesker nor Claire were fully good or evil. If anything happened once she, Chris, and Sheva were gone, then she didn't need to see or know about it. Knowing would mean hunting, and she had suffered enough of that for a lifetime. Besides—she glanced at the show below—the chances of Wesker escaping had just ended.

"Jill, thank you!" Claire shouted as she took the briefcase and continued her descent. "I promise that I'll get myself out, whatever happens."

Jill watched her friend drop into the inferno below and hoped that Claire would quickly return with her brother, for she had seen what Claire had not while the other woman had been busy climbing. Claire had not see the crumbling platform that Wesker had been standing on, and she had not seen Chris use a shotgun to knock Wesker back into the lava. Jill had witnessed the entire struggle while she handed Claire the briefcase, and she decided that perhaps this was for the best. Wesker would most likely die. Hell, he had to die in lava, but Claire would not feel like she had done nothing or gone back on her convictions because of it. Jill had just rescued Claire from eternal guilt over inaction by handing her that briefcase and letting her leave. A sorrowful ending was inescapable in Jill's mind, but this was all she could do. It was all she would do.

*********************

"CHRIS!" Wesker yelled as his chest erupted in pain. The bullet pierced his skin and ruptured organs, making him roar in protest. His victory—this was to be _his_ victory. He had spent his life working toward something as grand and powerful as uroboros, and it was powerful. He could feel the amazing strength coursing through his system with their parasitic presence. Even now, the creatures were repairing the shotgun damage to his body.

So this was what it felt like to be a god. He had instigated a superior stage in human development, and one which allowed him full control of his faculties and mind. He smiled as he pictured Birkin and Spencer locked away in their labs, slaving over simple creations that destroyed both mind and body. Wesker had surpassed them, for he was the first to truly master the force that Umbrella had unleashed from Pandora's box. He alone stood above being destroyed by his own creation, and even his deformity might be reversed given his backup plan.

Another shot hit him, and his red eyes flashed in anger. A shotgun would not kill him, but the blast still threw him off balance. His footing slipped, and he felt the earth beneath him disintegrating. Heat flared across his back as he stumbled in trying to regain his balance. _No!_ His mind warned him that he was falling toward his doom, and the thought annoyed him more than anything else. He was furious that Chris was besting him—that Chris had already thwarted his plans.

Then everything erupted in pain.

"Ahhhhhhhhhh!" Wesker yelled in anguish as fire washed over him, his deep voice rumbling up from its depths and calling curses upon Chris and his own foolishness. How could he have let himself be taken like this? No, it wasn't finished. He would not end like this—like Birkin and Spencer and Excella, even Irving. They would laugh at him if they could see him now. Damn them all. He still had uroboros, but pain was making it difficult to think. His legs were melting away, and his virus and the parasites worked to rapidly repair the damage only to be burned away again. _It will not end like this!_

****************

"Albert!" Claire yelled. She was running like mad, feet flying over the uneven and precarious ground. This place was unbearable. The heat from the volcano was unbelievable, engulfing her body and making the baby kick. The metal briefcase in her hand was held in a death grip even though its purpose was unknown, for Jill had conveyed its importance through a hard stare, and Claire sensed that it was somehow connected to Wesker and uroboros. It had to be. Now she just had to reach Wesker. Everyone needed to get out of here as soon as possible, for the lava was bubbling closer by the second. Everything could end in a roar of flames at any moment, and the thought spurred her on.

"Claire!" Chris shouted. There they were. She could see them now. Only a thin path of earth remained about the fighters, and panic began to rise when she realized how close her brother was to death. The lava was literally eating away the land around them.

"Claire, what the hell are you doing!?" Chris shouted, but she wasn't listening. Where was Wesker? Her muscles tensed and amber took over. She could see Chris and Sheva, but where was Wesker?

"CHRIS!" the hated name tore through the air for the second time, and its uncontrolled ire jolted Claire's senses. She had heard the shout before, but then she hadn't seen the cause for Wesker's furious tone, and she still couldn't. Chris was blocking her view of the shrinking land's far end, and Sheva was waving her hand in the air, motioning to the helicopter to come save them. Lava was gaining on them from nearly all sides, and the roar of the machine above them began competing with the hiss of molten rock.

"Where is he?" Claire demanded as she reached Chris. He tried to reach for her, but she pushed him away to clear her view.

"Claire, you don't want to see..." It was too late. Claire paused as she saw Wesker painfully trying to pull himself out of the lava and onto the rock platform. He yelled with effort as lava popped around him and sent scorching spray across his upper body. Claire didn't even know how he was still alive. All she knew was that she had to get to him.

"Albert!" she called. Wesker's head snapped upward, and his features twisted in surprise through the pain. Claire immediately dashed forward and left Chris grasping at air.

"Claire, no! We have to go!" he desperately yelled.

"Chris, we don't have time!" Sheva shouted, her hands already gripping the ladder that dangled several feet above the ground. The helicopter would not be able to remain where it was for much longer.

"Claire!" Chris tried one last time, but it was no use. His sister was too far to reach, and she obviously wasn't going to leave Wesker behind. _She's going to die._

"Chris!" Sheva again shouted. Chris felt tears running down his face as he turned and jumped for the ladder, fingers wrapping around the nearest rung and hauling his tired body up its length. Sheva was above him, nearing the helicopter's door, where Jill was waiting with outstretched arms. Chris couldn't look below. He just couldn't. If he did, he was afraid that his heart might burst from his chest with sorrow. His baby sister was down there, and dying for a man who didn't deserve it. He couldn't remember the last time that he'd cried, but the tears nearly blinded him now as he left behind his only family, even if she had betrayed him. No one would ever see those tears, for the heat of the volcano dried them by the time Jill's hands were helping him into the helicopter, but he still felt the pain, right in the center of his being.

"It was her decision," Jill whispered in his ear as she pulled him forward.

"Perhaps she'll still make it," he retorted.

"She promised that she would." Chris looked at her questioningly. Jill wore an odd expression that he couldn't interpret. It was somewhere between disbelief and hope. "She would never endanger the child...she...I should have known..."

"We need to pull out!" the pilot shouted.

"Five minutes!" Chris retorted. "She has five minutes to change her mind." He had to give her at least that much leeway.

*******************

"Albert!" Claire yelled, skidding to her knees at the lava's edge. Her arms stretched outward, fingers clasping his shoulders. She could do this. She had promised that she would, and if the virus could sustain Wesker's body despite its damage, she had vowed to get both of them out of this. Yes, seeing his mutation had disturbed and saddened her, but this was not the end. Claire had not left that helicopter in resigned defeat or without a plan—never that, and she wouldn't allow her child to die in this hellish pit.

"Hold on," she ordered as her arms secured themselves around Wesker's chest. Her fingers skimmed over burnt patches of flesh, and the sensation might have made her stomach roll if the moment wasn't consuming her. Wesker said nothing but growled in pain and torment as she pulled at him with every ounce of reserve in her viral body. The baby kicked wildly, and a few pops of lava scorched her knees. She barely noticed the burning sensation as Wesker's body was hauled from its fate. It was then that the smell of burning flesh truly hit her full force, and she bit back a gag as she worked to lay him on the ground.

"Claire," he breathed, voice strained from intense pain. It seemed all that he was capable of saying.

"We're going to get out of here," Claire assured him as she surveyed the damage done to his lower half. Entire sections of his legs were missing, including one foot, but a black swarm of uroboros was quickly molding a new limb, slimy, fresh skin beginning to grow over raw bone and exposed muscles. As for his upper body, parasites slipped in and out of his mutated shoulder, and they could be seen rippling beneath the taut skin of his muscled chest.

"The rock!" Wesker warned, but Claire had already felt it. The ground beneath them was going to give way to the lava, and they only had seconds. For a brief moment, amber and red locked together, questioning each other's resolve, and Claire was surprised to see confusion mixed with Wesker's anger and pain. "There's still time," he told her, and Claire knew that he was right. She could still safely return to the helicopter if she left him now, but she wouldn't.

"No," she told him, and his red eyes sought out hers. She busied herself wrapping arms around him as he studied her face in his immobility, a strange acceptance and calm suddenly seeming to temper the fury that had been burning inside of him. Claire didn't have time to analyze his return to control as she reached a hand for her earpiece. "Jill, get them out of here," she commanded. "You might get hurt if you stay." The communicator crackled as Claire began to drag Wesker away from the edge of the lava.

"Claire, don't die for him! We can still take you," Chris argued.

"Yes, but you won't take him," Claire retorted.

"Claire, you promised," Jill reminded her. "We're pulling out now...you've had a plan this entire time, haven't you?" Claire vaguely smiled in acknowledgement, but Jill would never see it. The former prisoner was only now guessing that Claire had been thinking of an escape route since she'd seen Wesker's mutation. Claire's silence in the helicopter had been about concentration as much as sadness. She had been carefully studying the volcano's terrain while Jill was finding the ladder, and because of it, she was certain that both she and Wesker would survive.

"Goodbye, and I love you," Claire stated before tearing off the communicator and throwing it into the lava. Wesker looked so vulnerable laying on the ground like he was, but she couldn't be gentle with his damaged body as she roughly yanked him to his feet. She was vaguely aware that the helicopter's noise was fading into the distance.

"Can you stand?" she asked.

"Yes," Wesker roughly replied, testing his newly grown legs. They were an odd black shade, and still slimy from the uroboros. "We need to move quickly," he stated, face as blank and impenetrable as ever.

"This way," Claire said, face resting near his after she retrieved Jill's metal briefcase from where she'd thrown it in her haste. Even amid the volcano's heated setting, she marveled that his red eyes could outdo the lava's glow as her hand wrapped around his and pulled. "Let's move!" They were not human, so she was certain that this would work, even as the lava rose higher and higher. They ran, neither saying a word, for there was nothing to say when survival was the main issue.

She guided them up a low slope toward the mouth of the crater, and then she pointed toward a steep, jagged point that jutted out of the mountain some distance below. It was a large ledge, and resting at an irregular angle of protrusion given the mountain's usually sloping build. Wesker stopped against her back, strength quickly returning as she motioned toward it.

"I saw it from above," she said. "Do you think that we can jump far enough to avoid rocks and hit the water?" Wesker's deformed arm brushed her back, and Claire felt an uroboros slide against her skin, leaving a wet trail in its wake. She shuddered, and Wesker wordlessly stepped away from her, stark face focused on the ocean surrounding the volcano.

"We'll have to make it," he stated. The volcano was again rumbling its warnings, and it was now Wesker that pulled Claire down the mountain. Claire nearly fell in their wild descent, but an uroboros tentacle wound about her waist and steadied her. She hated the texture of the appendage but accepted the gesture, and reminded herself that she had the suitcase with her. Perhaps Wesker could return to his former body. "Get ready to jump," he told her.

"Ready!" she answered. They began picking up speed as they drew near the ledge, and Claire absently thought that they must make a funny image, what with Wesker basically naked but for uroboros, and her in a ragged black dress and pregnant.

"Stay with me," he commanded, locking arms about her waist as their feet hit the edge of the earth. Claire gasped as she propelled herself into the sky, carried even further by Wesker's more powerful body. Uroboros slithered and wrapped protectively around her smaller frame as the water drew closer and closer. They hit and plunged beneath the waves, bodies interlocked. Bubbles burst about them, and the impact threw them into brief confusion.

Blue. Black. Claire could see nothing else, but then she was turned.

Red.

She smiled as natural buoyancy began pulling her body and his toward the surface. He stared at her with that semi-confused expression, and Claire stared back. The world was suddenly so quiet, but she could live with that.

Red, blue, black.

_You came back, dear heart._

_I said that I wouldn't leave you. _

_So you did. _

_Albert, let's go home._


	28. Chapter 28: A Place of Belonging

Chapter 28: A Place of Belonging

"Chris, what is it?" Jill asked. She sat on the couch, legs tucked beneath her as she looked through the news. Her purple nightgown flattered her slim, toned body, and she loved that Chris could barely keep his hands off of her when she wore it. Her hair was a bit longer and fuller now, and the shadow of captivity was beginning to fade. Coming back to the same, familiar apartment where she'd stayed with Chris before their fateful mission to find Spencer almost made her feel like the old Jill, but not quite. There would always be a part of her that was tainted by the vile actions of forced hands, and some friends had been lost to her forever. Things would simply never be the same after Umbrella.

Jill's thoughts drifted toward Claire, and the newspaper was forgotten as she tossed it aside. Chris was not the same since the loss of his sister. In some ways, he was quieter, more serious than he had ever been in Stars, but then again, that had been a long development beginning with Wesker's betrayal. There were times where he stared into space with a dark expression, but he was also far gentler with Jill than he had ever been before. This was a subdued Chris, and yet he spoke of the future with the same hope and determination that had propelled them into mission after mission. With a small sip of tea, Jill watched Chris as he stood in the doorway, his form frozen, letter in hand, and face blank.

"More requests from BSAA?" she guessed. The government had been asking both of them to go on a mission to India, but they were enjoying a long-deserved vacation. The newly engaged couple would not be returning to work for some time, and perhaps never now that Umbrella was finally buried. They could return to police work rather than allow bioweapons to consume their lives, but still, when Jill reflected on the meaning that Umbrella had both given and taken from them, perhaps they would never truly escape its grasp.

They both felt the pull of the past, for it was impossible not to when years of life had been dedicated to a single focus. Now that focus was gone, and the person who had started them on that dangerous path was gone if not dead. He still came up in conversation and was just one example of how their lives kept returning to Umbrella. Sometimes they talked about the possibilities of further bioterrorism due to Umbrella's legacy, and sometimes they wondered when Wesker and Claire had become what they had. Mostly, they tried to focus on what was to come in connection to those questions, and how they would cope. Their comfort was that whatever came, they would handle it together.

"She survived," Chris suddenly stated, holding up the letter in his hand. "It's from Claire..." His relieved voice trailed off, and Jill was immediately at his side. The letter was undoubtedly written in the younger Redfield's hand, and there were several photos attached to the letter's back. Chris unclipped them and sorted through the stack in quiet contemplation. The images showed Claire reclining in what looked like a hospital room. She wore a plain white gown, and was smiling despite her obvious fatigue.

"We always knew that she somehow made it," Jill smiled.

"Yeah, and she had the baby," Chris said, marveling at the small bundle that Claire cradled in the photo. The baby was wrapped in a blue blanket and held to her chest, Claire's smiling face beaming at the camera as she glowed from becoming a new mother. The back of the photo said, "It's a boy!"

"He's beautiful," Jill smiled, and Chris wordlessly agreed. They examined the photos in silence for a few moments, and then...

"So do you think that Wesker survived?" Chris's question rang in the air as they stared at what was possibly the one innocent creation to come from their former captain's hands.

"Yes," Jill finally answered. "Do you think he survived?"

"Yeah," Chris sighed. "If he hadn't, Claire would be here with us." Jill wrapped a supportive arm around his shoulders. "Damn, but it's only been two months. I didn't think that she'd give birth so soon. Was anyone even at the hospital with her, or did a doctor take the photo?"

"You know that the baby's not human," Jill answered. "And neither is Claire, so don't beat yourself up for not being there with her. What else does the letter say?"

"She wants us to meet William Isaac Redfield." Chris smiled, and Jill lovingly squeezed him. "I miss her like crazy, Jill. No matter what happened, she's still my sister, right? I really wish that she'd visit us, even if..." he breathed deeply and refolded the letter. "Even if she's with _him_. I'll never understand it."

"I don't think that you need to," Jill softly replied. "But you're not fighting it either, and I'd say that's for the best. I'm actually surprised that you aren't demanding we go track her down this instant and arrest Wesker."

"I've thought about," Chris admitted with a frown.

"And?" his fiance pressed.

"And I think that he must have died in the volcano. Unless he starts causing trouble again, nothing else needs to be said or put on the record." Jill was stunned by his reaction, and Chris slowly smiled at her. "Surprised that your mule-headed man isn't going for his guns?"

"Very," she teased. "I never thought that you'd come to terms with this."

"I haven't," he bluntly stated. "I hate it, and I wish that Claire had chosen someone better, but she didn't. And," his face calmed, "given everything that happened, perhaps Wesker will take care of her. I mean...this is hard to admit, but from what you've said, it seems like he really wanted her to be with him...and he must have been different with her since she went to him on her own. Claire's never been stupid..."

"No she hasn't," Jill mused. "And there was always something more to those two than met the eye. We just took longer to see it because they hid it so well. Chris," and her voice drew his eyes to hers. "Neither of us have to like this, but if Wesker actually found something other than power that he deemed worthwhile, then I won't speak against his relationship with Claire." Chris scoffed indignantly. "_And_ your little sister thinks that her baby needs an uncle," Jill added, pointedly ignoring Chris's reaction to her comments. "So you need to cheer up a little. Let's give her a call—if you're ready, that is."

"Oh, I'm ready; I forgave her weeks ago," Chris distantly commented. "It's him that I can't forgive, and I wish that Claire had trusted me enough to share the truth. Maybe part of this is my fault." They stood silently as they stared at the baby photos.

"Uncle Chris," the elder Redfield mused. "It has a nice sound." He smiled, even as his heart still ached from all that had happened. Claire would never completely return, for she had her own life that by necessity kept her separated from them. Chris had known that Wesker had survived when Claire never came back, and that stung, but not as much as he had expected. Maybe Jill was right and Wesker had finally released his drive for ultimate power. Either way, Chris hoped that life stayed quiet. He was still learning to accept what Claire had done and was doing, but the healing had started.

"William Isaac," he smiled, and another scar was erased.

*******************

He would die if he didn't find a cure. That was Wesker's conclusion as he stared at the computer monitor, acutely aware of the poison in his system. He would die or be physically crippled for the rest of his life, however long the virus extended his normal years, which looked to be a very long time. His fingers clicked several keys, and a string of number flew over across the screen. Just because he'd had no luck so far did not mean that he was defeated. He _would_ find a cure. It was his most important task for the time being, and beyond that...

Wesker leaned back in his chair and ignored the data crunching. In some ways, he was fortunate to have this distraction, for he was unsure of where he was heading for the first time in decades. Everything prior to this had been a carefully calculated step toward a goal—to rising higher on the food chain—and he had nearly reached the peak, or so he had thought. Now his work was gone, and he could either choose to rebuild and seek what he'd lost, or he could scrap that route and choose a new course.

He would not sit still or work beneath people who weren't fit to polish his boots. That he was certain of, and his possible career options seemed dull given how much power he had wielded before the end. He needed a grand plan. It was hardwired into his brain to seek more and push himself to the limits, to acquire position and bend the world to his will. Perhaps he could still do that, but without physically reshaping the world as uroboros would have done. After all, if Umbrella's work and his project had been superior to common humanity, then how had Chris and his friends always managed to not only survive exposure but win?

Wesker's jaw clenched, and he damned Chris to hell. Still, he felt compelled to consider this angle, and he had been doing so for some time, however much he despised having to do so. Control and direction had been the hallmark of his being for too long to allow petty emotions like anger to corrupt the impending future, and so he considered the end of his godhood. Perhaps viral improvements alone weren't the magnificent ascensions that he had envisioned them to be. Perhaps Umbrella had always overlooked human willpower in its plans, and maybe he had fallen prey to the same mistake.

Willpower was an extraordinary thing, and a trait that both he and Claire contained in remarkable quantities. He could still imagine her arms wrapping around him in the volcano, the pregnant woman risking death to save him.

_Claire._

Her name swirled through his head in constant repetition. Wesker had never believed that someone could be so faithfully and emotionally attached to anyone left alone him. Jumping over lava to save someone for no other reason than caring emotions was something beyond him, and witnessing it had profoundly shocked him. He had wrongly underestimated the strength and power of Claire's ties to him, and her surprise entrance had somehow soothed his raging emotions as victory slipped from his grasp.

She would not leave him, and she would always be his.

He knew that now, and to the extent that he would no longer allow his natural inclinations to question her devotion. There was no logical 'why', except that two people who'd been thrown together by unusual circumstances had grown attached. What had developed from that was something that he thought rarer than William's miracle virus or even uroboros' successful creation. He could not label it, but what they had was reliable and free from his direct control, and there was a strange sense of confidence that came from knowing that—from knowing that he didn't have to control her or their connection because it was already secure and trustworthy.

Was that what had calmed him in the volcano? Perhaps. He turned off the computer and left the same lab where Claire had been brought after infection in Brazil. All roads seemed to converge at this place, but he had no complaints since it was the perfect location to lay low while they adjusted to lives post-uroboros. Anger, bitterness, warmth, calm, promise. He had experienced all of them since returning here, but he had returned to himself faster than any of the others due to his self-possessed personality.

As he left the lab, he wondered if William had already been fed and put to bed for the night. The child had inherited his mother's love of human sleeping patterns.

**********************

Claire stood over the crib and watched the sleeping infant. He was so small— much smaller than he had felt on his journey into the world. The thought made her smile as she decided that childbirth was definitely one of the toughest tasks that she'd ever undertaken, but the results were worth it. She reached down and pulled the blanket up over William's chest, and the baby's eyes immediately snapped open. He was far too alert for a normal infant, but she had expected that. His acute senses made getting him to sleep much more difficult than if he'd been a regular, human child.

"Sleep," she soothed, and the baby stared at her, his small, wide eyes searching her face. His irises were the prettiest blue, but when he was upset and began crying, they turned red like his father's. In fact, he looked much more like his father than he did Claire. Blond wisps of hair already adorned his head, and his features were definitely the sharp, handsome edges of Wesker's heritage. The only traits that Claire claimed for herself were his blue eyes and his smile. She was convinced that his bubbly grin was a mirror image of her own.

"Good night, sweet prince," she said. "Flights of angels sing thee to thy rest."

"He's sleeping, not dying," a voice corrected her. Claire quickly turned to find Wesker leaning against the doorframe. He looked graceful and controlled, but Claire knew the truth and had to resist moving to help support his weakened body. He hated when she reminded him of his failings, so she instead calmly walked toward him and rested her head on his shoulder. One of his arms wrapped about her waist in response, and she melted into its touch.

The uroboros were gone from his body, but it had been a difficult struggle. They had swam to the coast after escaping the volcano, and there was no way that Wesker could have gone further and remained unnoticed in his mutant state, and this when they needed BSAA to think him dead. He was a wanted man in every sense of the word, and so he had allowed Claire to administer the poison that would kill uroboros, even though he had not wanted to lose the last remnants of his life's work. And so he had been extremely discontent but resigned as the needled slipped into his skin, and Claire would never forget his silent submission. Afterword, he had wound a hand in her hair and rested his forehead against hers, just sitting and letting the end come to him.

At first, the poison seemed to have worked perfectly, for the mutations had disappeared, but the antidote had been untested and so unpredictable. Within several days, negative side effects had manifested themselves, and Wesker had been thrown into painful convulsions. The problem now seemed contained, but Wesker's body was still weak from fighting the bodily intrusion, and there were times that Claire worried she'd wake up and find him dead. That was her greatest fear.

"Will looks so much like you," she stated while reveling in the smell of the black shirt beneath her nose.

"We should leave before we wake him," Wesker said, and they left the spare bedroom where the crib was. Soon they were in their own room—the same familiar room where Claire had once slept while Wesker worked on his laptop beside her. Such memories made her wonder what he would do now that his project was destroyed. She worried about what would happen to them and to Will, for technically no body had ever been found, so Wesker was still listed as wanted, and would he try to regain power through bioweapons once again? She slipped out of her pajamas and climbed into the bed, Wesker behind her.

"Have you made any progress?" she hopefully asked, and he replied by winding arms around her torso and pulling her closer.

"I'm working on it" Wesker told her, and she nodded against his chest. "Dear heart," he breathed, a hand running through her hair. "Take care of the child; I'll take care of myself."

"Because you've done a swell job so far," Claire scoffed. Wesker tilted her head back so that they were looking at one other. He was wearing his contemplative mask, and she waited for what she knew they had to eventually discuss.

"Why did you come back for me, Claire?" he asked, and Claire swallowed. They had barely spoken about what had happened in the volcano, for it remained a sore topic for Wesker. He hated losing, and to have lost to Chris had been even worse. Everything that he'd worked toward had crumbled around him, and now he stood amid the ruins, trying to put the pieces back together.

"Albert," Claire gently spoke. "I love you."

"I thought that you were too weak to stay by my side," he told her, face deathly serious.

"You didn't trust me."

"I never have and never will rely on feelings to make decisions."

"So you still don't trust me..." Claire was hurt by the admission, but she had expected that, and so she brushed it off. "It's how you are," she said. "And that's okay." Wesker analyzed her honest face and drew her closer against his chest.

"You are always extraordinary," he smirked.

"And I'm still staying right here," she said, burying her nose in the groove of his neck. "Albert, promise me that you won't leave."

"You're mine, dear heart. There will be no separating us this time," and his words flooded Claire with peace. She was pressed against him and he was pressed against her. To think that this had all started with a stolen sample and pure animosity! The memories now made her smile, and she snuggled closer to him, knowing that he was utterly relaxed in her presence. It had not been easy to accomplish, but he seemed so much calmer than before, for right after the battle, he had been frustrated and vying for control of his body. He had since lost that edge if not his burning desire to regain what he'd lost, but maybe he knew that he hadn't lost everything.

Wesker's fingers gently stroked Claire's lower back as she began drifting into sleep. He had gained a sense of security in a relationship, which he had never had before. They were solidified beyond what logical doubt had made him manipulate for so long, and for now he wasn't manipulating at all. Perhaps it was a relief for him, for he'd fondly told her that she'd gone beyond what he would have ever expected from anyone, even previously knowing her dedication to him.

He continued to caress her, and they lay as they were for a long time, just silently enjoying each other. Claire was nearly asleep when Wesker bent his mouth to her ear and softly whispered.

"Dear heart, I trust you." What drove a woman to cling to the battered remains of a once great man who was now slowly dying of poison? When she had pulled him from that volcano, his ambitions torn and laid bare, it had been unclear who was clinging to whom. Now, as she moved in his arms, he could only contemplate the future. The path that had once been so clear was now foggy, but this woman in his arms was a certainty. He hadn't lost everything with uroboros, but if not for her, he would have. He would have been another one of Umbrella's forgotten failures.

Warm. She was always so warm, and she was the greatest thing that he had ever gained through of his work with Umbrella. The company that he had worked to rip everything from for his own gain had inadvertently given him the one thing that he had never even been looking for, and she was his. He allowed himself to relax, and for the first time in his life, Albert Wesker fell asleep to the rhythm of another's heartbeat instead of the sound of his own demanding thoughts.


	29. Ending Note

It's the end. It's really the end. I don't even know how I should feel after expending so much energy on this. It's like...I can't describe, but I hope that everyone enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing. And thank you for all the reviews and dedicated reading. I truly appreciate how much feedback I've received and that people came back to read each installment.

I can't believe that this whole Claire/Wesker thing turned into 402 pages. I'm not sure when or how that happened, but it definitely had something to do with the support that I received. Now I'm going back to read the whole thing through to see how things progressed since I haven't done that yet.

So that's all I have to say. Please leave final comments, and I hear some of you asking for some future installments concerning Wesker and Claire's new life. I know that I won't do anything huge unless I feel particularly inspired, and I don't want to write something that is going to be 'blah'. But who knows? No promises. The answer's probably 'no', because I feel like this is a good place to end.

Love to you all,

O.N.


End file.
